Conference Report: Women in The American New Wave: A Retrospective

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Retrospectives: Another opportunity to rethink women’s contribution?

In this week’s contribution, Fjoralba Miraka reflects on a conference at Bangor University on The American New Wave.  Out of a wide-ranging event, she focusses on key aspects in relation to women and film history, not least in some challenges to the dominance of the prevailing idea of the New Hollywood male auteur. Her report provides further evidence for WFTHN readers of how looking back continues to provide vital material for reassessment and moving forwards.

The American New Wave: A Retrospective: School of Creative Studies and Media, College of Arts and Humanities: Bangor University, 4-6 July 2017

The American New Wave or New Hollywood cinema, a period of American cinema understood as spanning the late 1960s through the 1970s, remains a rich era of film research for current generations of cinephiles and film scholars. This July it was again the object of inquiry at a conference organised by Bangor University which invited and welcomed an international group of scholars to celebrate the period’s legacies and re-examine its significance. Panels discussed a variety of aspects of New Hollywood, from questions of authorship, histories and inheritances to analyses revisiting key films, stars, genres and production companies. All three days featured a special keynote address and ended with the screenings of key films from that era: Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967), 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968), and Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979).

Women’s contributions featured in various ways during the conference. Of particular interest was the panel on women practitioners, which featured a presentation by Aaron Hunter[1] on ‘Polly Platt’s New Hollywood Aesthetic’ and a second presentation by Aimee Mollaghan on ‘Barbara Loden’s Influence on the Contemporary American Female Road Movie’. Both presentations argued convincingly for the inherent sexism of traditional auteurist criticism and illustrated the ways in which it has invariably disregarded and overlooked the work of women both in front of and behind the camera. Hunter’s discussion about production designer Polly Platt’s aesthetics of realism and hyper-realism present in Peter Bogdanovich’s films offered the designer the creative credit she has usually been denied. Mollaghan’s discussion of Barbara Loden’s road movie Wanda (1970) challenged our perceptions of gender and genre by examining how the metaphoric use of landscape in the film reconstituted gender representations in relation to images of open space. My own presentation focused on the under-explored function of melodrama in the New Hollywood films, taking Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) as an example of the way in which the woman in this era is typically displaced from the central position she occupied in the melodramas of Classical Hollywood.

The function of melodrama featured elsewhere in relation to male film directors. Linda Williams focused on the wonder boy of New Hollywood, Steven Spielberg, considering the framing influence of melodrama in his films, through recurrence of childhood experience, prominent in Spielberg’s films. She elaborated on the function of nostalgia and sentimentality, which hold a significant place in Spielberg’s melodramas, and the wonderful workings of his music which produce ‘the bodily fluids of melodrama’, tears.

The second pair of panels offered explorations of alternative perspectives which challenged the dominance of the film auteur, bringing to our attention the creative contributions of scriptwriters, sound designers and film editors. Oliver Gruner, Frederick Wasser, and Warren Buckland discussed the contribution of scriptwriter Waldo Salt, sound designer Walter Murch and film editors Sam O’Steen, Dede Allen, and Ralph Rosenblum respectively, making the case for the valuable contributions of film practitioners other than the director. Their presentations were an attempt to pay tribute both to the collaborative nature of the filmmaking experience itself and the hidden figures of the industry and its history. Dede Allen’s editing work on Bonnie and Clyde was presented as typical of the period’s innovation and experimentation with stylistic choices, and reflected on how these choices functioned as cultural commentary. Thanks to her pioneering contribution to the aesthetics of key films of the era, Buckland argued convincingly that Allen is equally deserving of the title ‘auteur’. Returning to the director role, Jimmy Hay related River of Grass director Kelly Reichardt’s ‘cinema of weariness’ to New Hollywood; a cinema of passive, muted characters with restricted movements, and stylistically very close to the European film sensibility of long takes and exterior places.

At a point at which discussion of the gender imbalances of much conference activity has become an increasingly pressing conversation in academia, the conspicuously limited number of women presenters at the event, as well as the limited number of presentations focusing on women actively involved in film during the Hollywood Renaissance era, was striking. Some interesting, illustrative numbers were: only 1 out of the 4 keynote speakers was a woman; only 6 out of the 37 presenters were women (myself included); only 4 out of all 37 presentations involved discussions about women in New Hollywood (those were sound editor Dede Allen, designer Polly Platt, directors Barbara Loden, and Kelly Reichardt); all three screenings were films directed by men.  This offers the chance to think about possible reasons behind this imbalance in numbers. Is it indicative of a limited presence of women active during that period in film production? Could it indicate a perception of New Hollywood as male topic or terrain in the approaches adopted in film history and criticism? Can we, positively, perceive these questions as a spur to engage in a determined manner, to reassess film history and work towards a more inclusive canon? In that respect, the Women and New Hollywood conference organised by Maynooth University for May 2018 comes at the right moment to offer fresh, challenging, and inspirational perspectives on the innovative and influential contributions of women whose labour has been overlooked, dismissed, or simply erased from critical perspectives.

In a subsequent discussion, Yannis Tzioumakis (University of Liverpool) reflected upon the ongoing passion scholars show towards the films of that period and expressed aims of interest to Women’s Film and Television History Network. In recent scholarship in this area, he commented that ‘there has been a strong emphasis on looking beyond a director-centred or auteurist cinema that has tended to dominate existing studies and a focus instead on such issues as the role of other collaborators, the distinction between myth and fact, an examination of little-seen films and little-discussed companies and indeed an emphasis on the ways in which we can potentially reassess the period with the help of these new perspectives and focal points. For me, all these developments are very positive and are bound to produce new and exciting work on the topic. And I think female scholarship/scholarship on women and the Hollywood Renaissance can play a vital part in this project.’ As Robert Kolker also reflected: ‘it was especially gratifying to meet so many young scholars. Their passion for the field proves not only the lasting value of American films of the 1960s and 70s, but also the health of cinema studies.’

The conference was hosted and organised by academics and staff from the School of Creative Studies and Media which is part of the College of Arts and Humanities at Bangor University. We extend, thus, our warm thanks to Bangor University and to its lead organizers Gregory Frame and Nathan Abrams, for offering the necessary space for such concerns to be raised and addressed.

For the conference programme, see here

Fjoralba Miraka is a Ph.D student at Roehampton University and teaching associate, with a research focus on the postclassical melodramatic imagination in the Hollywood Renaissance period. She is currently working on a chapter for publication concerning the male melodramas of Scorsese’s early films. She is also writing an entry on the history of Feminist Film Theory for the first Encyclopaedia of Gender, Media and Communication, scheduled for publication in 2019, as part of the ICA series of the Sub-disciplinary Encyclopaedias of Communication.

[1] Aaron Hunter is on a two-year postdoctoral fellowship which focuses on Women and New Hollywood, based at Maynooth University, Department of Media Studies and sponsored by the Irish Research Council. Details about their forthcoming 2018 conference on ‘Women in New Hollywood’ are available on the website



Glamour, Nostalgia and Film Memory: Contemporary Popular Culture and the Femme Fatale

In this week’s blog, Katherine Farrimond writes from a very contemporary perspective on the enduring cinematic figure of the femme fatale. Further to the publication of her monograph, she considers how recent examples in film and television create different dialogues between past and present.

In my book, The Contemporary Femme Fatale: Gender, Genre and American Cinema, I was keen to expand research on the figure beyond the erotic noir thrillers of the 1980s and 1990s that have been so central to the majority of research on the femme fatale in the post-studio era. Such films have been interrogated in terms of their representation of the dangers of professional women, their complicity with backlash discourses against second wave feminism, their controversial representations of violent women, and their updating of the classical noir narratives that have been central to foundational work in feminist film studies. Rather than thinking about the value and limits of the femme fatale per se for feminism (a tempting but irresolvable debate), I found it more productive to think through the details of those representations. Therefore, I moved away from theoretical narratives of backlash and sought to address the representation of teenagers as femme fatale figures in an era of ‘girl culture’, by using bisexuality to frame my readings of neo noir and by re-reading science fiction films’ use of the femme fatale in its hybrid human/alien bodies.

What I was most taken with, however, was the constant return to film history, or at least, film memory, in representations of the femme fatale over the past quarter-century. As James Naremore argues in More Than Night (1998), contemporary noir films are often “about” their noir look. This attention to aesthetics is uniquely tied up with nostalgic fantasies of glamour, femininity and power when it comes to the femme fatale. This is most obvious in retro noir films set in the 1940s or 50s, or drawing on the iconography of classic noir. Films like LA Confidential (1997), Lonely Hearts (2006) and Gangster Squad (2013) lean heavily on the aesthetics of the femme fatale in their promotional materials, despite being reluctant to follow through on their initial promise by creating truly dangerous femme fatale characters. Exploring the specific ways that the cinematic memory of the femme fatale has been put to work as a useable myth complicates attempts to claim the figure as being intrinsically feminist or antithetical to feminism. The aesthetics of the tough, glamorous retro femme fatale have been deployed in wildly divergent ways. Emma Stone’s passive moll in Gangster Squad is horribly at odds with the hard glitter of her appearance, whereas Sin City: A Dame to Kill For (2014) provides Eva Green (who studied Barbara Stanwyck’s noir performances in preparation for the role) an unlikely opportunity to fulfil the role of femme fatale with excess and camp abandon. Thus, the figure’s nostalgic glamour is often used simply as an appealing and marketable surface, but it also presents an opportunity to revisit and adapt the energetic femininity of the classic noir femme fatale.

Figure 1: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (Season 3, Episode 1) ‘from a victim to a woman scorned.’ © Netflix.

A timely example of this can be found in the opening of the new season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (2017), a series characterised by its knowing deployment of genre and popular culture tropes and clichés.  Having been left at the altar, the titular character Rebecca Bunch pulls herself out of her hotel room depression with a trip to the shops to transform ‘from a victim to a woman scorned’. This makeover includes dark nail varnish, dark hair dye, a tight white dress cut in a retro style, and most tellingly, DVD copies of Fatal Attraction (1987) and Basic Instinct (1992). She returns to her workplace to enact an elaborate, exaggerated and self-referential performance of sultry femininity. As she informs the friend who interrupts the routine, ‘Paula, I’m trying to do a thing!’ Crazy Ex-Girlfriend’s ‘doing’ of the femme fatale allows for a clear explication of both the aesthetics of the figure and some of her more violent and vengeful incarnations in film history. The femme fatale becomes a ‘thing’ reducible to a palette of aesthetic choices, but is also presented as an available and malleable fantasy. The cinematic memory of the femme fatale is employed as a transitional myth, used to shift from one way of being to another. Rebecca’s ‘doing’ of the femme fatale provides her with a sense of control, and a reprieve from the humiliation of her circumstances, even as the series’ narrative presents the femme fatale as a comically unlikely and unsustainable fantasy.

Figure 2: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (Season 3, Episode 1) ‘My hair is dark so I look evil, but I’m wearing white which is ironic.’ © Netflix.

The femme fatale is a consumable and compelling archetype that gestures back to Hollywood history in fascinating ways, and demonstrates the complex power of cinematic nostalgia. The looking back facilitated by the femme fatale does not simply represent a desire to return to how things once were, but rather invites a reconsideration of the pull of past femininities, and provides an opportunity not for wholesale recreation, but for playfulness and transformation.

Katherine Farrimond is Lecturer in Media and Cultural Studies at the University of Sussex. Her research explores gender and genre in contemporary popular culture with particular focus on the femme fatale, mediated constructions of virginity, and the politics of nostalgia. Her monograph, The Contemporary Femme Fatale was published with Routledge in 2017, and she has published numerous articles and book chapters on representations of girlhood, femininity, sexuality and the uses of the past in popular culture. She is book reviews editor for Feminist Theory Journal and co-editor of SEQUENCE.

Whedon, Weinstein and Why Feminism Matters


In a very timely reflection, Lorna Jowett considers the position of the feminist scholar in the light of recent revelations of systemic abuse within Hollywood. Weinstein may present a depressingly familiar story; by comparison, the case of Joss Whedon has given rise to different questions for feminists concerning Buffy and authorship.  Is there a need for a reassessment of this influential television female character?

In August 2017, The Wrap published an article written by Kai Cole, architect,actor and producer who was married to producer, writer and director Joss Whedon for 16 years. Under the title ‘Joss Whedon Is a ‘Hypocrite Preaching Feminist Ideals’ , Cole claimed that Whedon had a series of affairs with young women he worked with in the film and TV industry while married to her. This sent shockwaves through various fan communities, and, the following day, long-running Whedon fan site Whedonesque effectively closed down with the following announcement:

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‘So farewell then. 15 years is a long time…But now it’s time to say goodbye…’ (Whedonesque:

Cole’s accusations towards Whedon have since been eclipsed by the revelations regarding Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein In October 2017, he was accused of sexual harassment, sexual assault and rape by growing numbers of women; a number of men felt able to share their harassment stories. Weinstein was fired from the Weinstein Company’s board of directors and expelled from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The allegations against Weinstein became headline news in various countries, sparking debates about sexism and misogyny within Hollywood and more broadly, the way it is often excused, ignored and therefore enabled by those working in the industry. Actor Tippi Hedren’s tweets in support of those coming forward to accuse Weinstein, comparing him with Alfred Hitchcock, indicated how endemic this behaviour has been in Hollywood, and how it is widespread, even integral, in its system both historically and into the present.

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@tippihedren (

The sheer number of those coming forward to accuse Weinstein, coupled with his inadequate response, and—of course—his reputation as a producer and co-founder of Miramax, means that the ‘news’ about Weinstein has eclipsed the revelations Cole made about Whedon. Clearly, whilst both are abuses of authority and power, having affairs with work colleagues is not the same as persistent harassment, assault and rape. Moreover, many commentators seem to have taken the allegations against Weinstein as simply the public disclosure of an open secret; by comparison, Whedon’s ‘betrayal’ or ‘hypocrisy’ elicited emotional, conflicted, and confused responses. The difference seems to lie in the way Whedon, or the Whedon brand, was rooted for by many viewers and fans, as ‘feminist’. This is encapsulated in The Wrap’s opening quotation from Cole : ‘He used his relationship with me as a shield … so no one would question his relationships with other women or scrutinize his writing as anything other than feminist.’

For many fans and followers of Whedon, this was the crux of his hypocrisy: he claimed to be a feminist and to use feminism in his creative work—starting with TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003)—and feminism, or a particular take on gender representation, was certainly used to promote subsequent productions. No one ever imagined Weinstein to be a feminist; apparently many saw Whedon as one and were bitterly disappointed when they seemed to be proved badly wrong. The titles or headlines of articles alone set out the allegiances (and emotional responses) of their authors, from ‘Clementine Ford: Why Joss Whedon’s treatment of ex-wife Kai Cole matters’ to ‘Buffy’s Legacy Does Not Belong to Joss Whedon’.

I am Vice President of the Whedon Studies Association, an association devoted to the academic study of Whedon’s work, and an academic whose first monograph was about gender and Buffy (Sex and the Slayer, 2005). My work is perpetually informed by feminist theory and feminist thought and I find I have mixed feelings about  this issue myself. And here’s one of the things that seems to me to be tricky about working out what, if anything, to think about these revelations: academic analysis and publication is not supposed to ‘feel’ anything, it is traditionally supposed to present objective examination and evaluation. I say ‘supposed to’ because I have never believed in academic objectivity and I am acutely aware of how my various identities, personal and professional, inflect my ‘feminist’ perspective and my academic work. To me, critical examination and personal investment need not be mutually exclusive. Members of the Whedon Studies Association have always attempted to offer critique and rigorous analysis and the organisation and its members have often found themselves having to defend the notion that they are not simply fans of Whedon who adore everything he produces, and accept everything he says publicly at face value.

One of the issues most debated on the WSA Facebook page following Cole’s revelations about Whedon’s personal life was how to distinguish between personal and professional, or between creator and their work. Should we re-evaluate whether Buffy (and other Whedon productions) was ground breaking in terms of how it represented ‘strong women’? Or should the personal failings of its named creator be considered separately from the impact of the TV series and films that made his name?’ One thoughtful response was Matthew Pateman’s blog, Celebrity Culture, Brand Whedon and the post-Romantic fallacy,’ which notes how in many discussions or judgements ‘the semi-sainted Whedon of Equality Now and Planned Parenthood has been assumed to be identical with the legally named owner of rights to television shows.’ Pateman delineates the complexities involved in unpicking the various ‘Joss Whedons’, concluding that ‘Buffy hasn’t changed and to think it has is to oddly privilege Whedon as the sole arbiter and purveyor of its meaning. Even in the days of ‘St Joss’, that was always a fallacy.’

So what can I draw from these complex and often painful discussions? Here are some of my initial conclusions:

  • ‘Feminism’ does not have a clear definition and means different things to different people. Like any perspective or ideology it can be used for different purposes and co-opted by those whom others may not consider ‘feminist.’
  • Buffy has had an impact, on viewers, and on representations, as widely circulated memes (arising from Sarah Michelle Gellar’s own twitter post) demonstrated recently.
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    @SarahMGellar (

    It wasn’t perfect, of course.

  • Whether we credit Whedon or others (such as Jane Espenson or Marti Noxon) for this impact does not change it.
  • In 2017, 20 years after it first aired, Buffy’s ‘feminism’ is dated because feminism, society, and television drama have moved on and developed, though arguably it is still relevant.
  • Studies continue to show that while productions featuring female protagonists are more commercially successful than those featuring males, such productions are far from common.
  • Sexual harassment, assault and rape are all too common for many women and other people in everyday life (as evidenced by online campaigns such as Everyday Sexism and the recent #MeToo hashtag).
  • Men exploiting positions of power via affairs, sexual harassment, assault and rape are not uncommon within major institutions. Such institutions may express surprise when these practices are revealed but do little to discourage them.
  • Studies also show that the film and TV industries in the UK, US and elsewhere, are far from diverse, rather they are deeply unequal and dominated by white men.


  • I wish to remain hopeful about the future of feminism and a future that values girls, women, and those with minority identities. Therefore, I need to believe that series like Buffy can continue to inspire those who watched it to think differently about gender and the inequities of power that structure gender roles, irrespective of whether some of those involved in creating it have taken advantage of these inequities while purporting to challenge them. I need to believe that feminism can bring people together to work for effective change even as it troubles, disturbs, and upsets how we see things. Whedon and Weinstein are individual examples of what unequal systems and societies can produce. I need to believe that, collectively, we can learn from the disturbing stories about such individuals and start upsetting the system that enables them.



Event Report: The Women Over 50 Film Festival Brighton: 14-17 September 2017

In September, the third Women Over Fifty Film Festival in Brighton took place. Deborah Jermyn presents us with some highlights from a vital, entertaining and thought-provoking event.

As Austen might well have observed had she been writing today, it has been a truth universally acknowledged for really far too long now that the film industry is no friend to older women – be that in front of the camera, or behind it for that matter. But in recent years, the voices speaking out against this dismal state of affairs have been gathering momentum, forming an increasingly insistent cacophony of resistance to the industry’s exclusionary practices. A signal and most welcome innovator in this call to greater diversity and inclusivity has come in the form of the Women Over Fifty Film Festival (WOFFF), founded in 2015 by Nuala O’Sullivan.

Last month saw the third iteration of WOFFF, run at the Sallis Benney theatre at the University of Brighton. Taking place largely over the weekend of September 16-17, and featuring an energetic programme of workshops, activities and screenings, it was a true treat to escape to the seaside for a weekend and join the proceedings. Featuring 55 international shorts, festival films all had to meet at least one of two crucial criteria: ‘there must be a woman over 50 at the heart of the story on screen, or a woman over 50 in one of the core creative roles (writer, director or producer)’.

The festival opened on the Thursday evening in splendid style at The Duke of York’s cinema, with a screening of Mamma Mia! (2008). The story of this older-woman centred film’s phenomenal and unanticipated commercial success, which was rapturously welcomed by many older-women audiences in contrast to its frequently snarky critical reception, is now the stuff of Hollywood legend (and one the industry will be hoping to repeat in the upcoming Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again). Furthermore, as Nuala O’Sullivan reminded us in her introduction, it was also a film led by a triumvirate of older women creatives, including director Phyllida Lloyd. Given this, and the film’s unadulterated pleasure in scenes of women of a certain age stealing the show, it was an apt opener for a festival ‘celebrating the work of older women on both sides of the camera’.

Dr. Patricia McManus delivers her presentation on ‘The Handmaid’s Tale.’ © Sharon Kilgannon @alonglines

A series of broadly themed short film programmes along with six workshops, on such varied topics as ‘How to Win at Pitching’ and ‘Making a Film on Your Smartphone’, followed over Saturday and Sunday, along with two free public events. In the first of these, Patricia McManus from the University of Brighton delivered a lecture examining ‘Women Over Fifty in Dystopian Fictions: The Handmaid’s Tale – Gender & Race’. Here she traced an engaging history of how older women in dystopian literature have been used by the genre to embody ‘the masses’; easily manipulated, timid and eager to please.  A thoughtful discussion of the recent TV adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale followed. Contributors grappled with issues raised by the programme-makers’ decision to cast black actors in the series, since Atwood had depicted Gilead as only white by dint of reference to the mass ‘resettlement’ of ‘the children of Ham’; had the series evaded examining how white supremacism and patriarchy intersect? (For more on these debates see here).

The second free event was a panel discussion featuring a variety of women actors and practitioners, though not all of them quite met the ‘over 50’ criteria, a point which usefully served to underscore the inescapable subjectivity of what ‘older woman’ is taken to mean. The discussion here took something of a troubling turn at times, as it trod the familiar territory of whether women bosses give their women workers a harder time (thereby taking the heat off men, again), and in the suggestion that all that filmmakers have to do to combat the marginalisation of certain groups is simply ‘reflect reality’ (as if there is consensus on what that is). Nevertheless, the panel finished on an animated and thought-provoking note, as Loy Philips argued that digital filmmaking has liberated women just as washing machines and birth control did before it. Being accessible, lightweight and cheap – though only for some, one must note (a point that seems all the more imperative to make given the latest manoeuvres by ’45’ and co. in the US to limit women’s access to birth control) – it was intriguing to reflect on how digital filmmaking might be placed in a kind of history of technological shifts that have released (some) women from certain social and biological constraints.


Actor Denise Welch and WOFFF Director Nuala O’Sullivan © Sharon Kilgannon @alonglines

The 55 short films screened in the festival were shared among eight programmes, and I was struck by how those that I got to see were gratifyingly international in scope, with projects drawn from South Africa, Afghanistan, Ireland, The Netherlands and France, as well as North America and the UK (while other screenings included work from Korea, Australia and Iran). In the ‘Conflict’ programme, Will Barnard’s Get Riel (2017) profiled choreographer and dancer Elsa Perez who is still teaching in her 80s; fortunate WOFFF participants had the opportunity to learn from her first-hand when she attended the festival to run a Latin American Dance workshop. As a South Londoner, The Ladies’ Bridge (Karen Livesey, 2015) was especially fascinating for me, documenting and revising the historical erasure of the women construction workers who provided the labour that built Waterloo Bridge. Documentary was well served throughout the festival, most particularly and valuably giving screen time to the experiences and voices of older women – subjects rarely considered worthy of attention – so that it felt quite radical to hear so many speak in succession.  Elsewhere there was also a range of fiction, animation and experimental work to be seen; A Lighthouse in Breaking Waves (Cheryl White, 2016) delivered a moving and innovative composite of live action and animation as a bereaved mother traces her son’s last trip overseas, while the darkly humorous Spores (Frances Poet and Richard Poet, 2015) ensured that the audience went home vowing to never again risk picking their own mushrooms. Each programme was followed by a welcome opportunity for the audience to ask questions of various filmmakers, actors and production personnel, all of whom were enthusiastically introduced by Festival Director Nuala O’Sullivan, whose spirited marshalling of the entire festival was unwavering.

As I finish writing this, I’m struck by the perfect symmetry of the fact that I am doing so to the sounds of my children (aged seven and eight) watching Mamma Mia! on the iPad. How perfectly this illustrates that given half a chance, more audiences drawn from many demographics would be content to see women over 50 populating their screens. On our Film Night at the weekend it was a tough call for my kids trying to decide between this or Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I’m happy to report that for today at least in our house – and for the foreseeable future at WOFFF – Meryl and co rule.

Further details and reports on WOFFF 2017 can be found here.

Dr Deborah Jermyn is Reader in Film and Television at the University of Roehampton, where she is Co-Director of the Centre for Research in Film and Audiovisual Cultures. She is the editor of Female Celebrity and Ageing: Back in the Spotlight (2013) and (with Su Holmes) Women, Celebrity and Cultures of Ageing: Freeze Frame (2015). Her monograph (on over-50 woman filmmaker) Nancy Meyers has just been published by Bloomsbury.

Conference Report: ‘Love Across the Atlantic’

Love Across the Atlantic: An Interdisciplinary Conference on US-UK Romance
University of Roehampton, June 16 2017. In conjunction with New College, University of Alabama

Continuing our conference theme, we are delighted to feature two responses from June’s Love Across the Atlantic, an interdisciplinary intervention exploring cultural and political resonances of the ‘special relationship’ across literature, film and television. The event was supported by Women’s Film and Television History Network.

With Karen Randell, in a fascinating keynote, Professor Alexis Weedon explored novelist and screenwriter Elinor Glyn’s relationship to America. Below, she gives us a flavour of its intriguing complexities alongside some other highlights regarding film, television and literature from the conference.

And Fjoralba Miraka reflects on the timely nature of the papers, whether focussed on contemporary or historical subject matter.


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Love Across the Atlantic: June 2017 © Roehampton University

Alexis Weedon writes:
Creating a keynote between us for a conference linking institutions as far away from each other as Roehampton and Alabama brings into focus the benefits and pleasures of cross-disciplinary conferences.

Deborah Jermyn, author of a recently published book Nancy Meyers, was the convener in the UK and her colleagues Catherine Roach, Ted Trost and Barbara Brickman from USA provided a forum for studying transatlantic romance through the frame of the political, economic and military undertones of such a special relationship.

She kindly invited Karen Randell and myself to present a keynote on Elinor Glyn, an author, filmmaker, business woman and glamour icon of the 1920s who crossed the Atlantic many times in her life. Glyn’s love affair with America was publicised in the magazines, in the cinema and on radio. As the novelist Arnold Bennett wryly observed in Books and Persons  it was a historical watershed, referring to ‘the distant past … before America and Elinor Glyn had discovered each other’ (1917, p.289). She was not alone in this affair, traveling in 1908 on Mauritania after the success of her romantic novel Three Weeks, she was one of millions crossing the Atlantic recreating themselves in the New World. We used the link between Glyn’s book and popular silent film Six Days (1923) and Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic (1997) to demonstrate the differences in wealth and fortune of those who travelled as well as the likelihood of realizing their dreams. In Hollywood Glyn made personal and romantic friendships, and became deeply invested in the movie adaptations of her books offering her own insights to the stars and directors on what constituted the accurate psychological portrayal of love on screen.

Glyn, I soon found, was not the only novelist featured in the conference who had a transatlantic passion.  A session on literary authorship across the ocean featured novelists as diverse as P.G Wodehouse, Lisa Kleypas, Maya Rodale.  Presenters Finn Pollard, Immaculada Pérez-Casel and Veera Mäkelä made the point that in their fictions America is only defined in contrast to England and therefore the countries’ identities are interdependent. Pérez-Casal saw in Kleypas’s romance a nostalgia for a mythical Englishness. The lure of this was so strong it alone could unite American couples. While in Wodehouse, argued Pollard, both nations have to be involved before a romance can be fulfilled.

Alice Guilluy’s study of the British reception of Sweet Home Alabama also revealed national differences in audience’s readings of film. William Brown’s amusingly entitled: ‘Bridget’s Jones’s Special Relationship: No Filth, Please, We’re Brexiteers’ looked at Bridget Jones’ Baby. He critiqued the marketing of love through the tongue-in-cheek portrayal of the fictional ‘Quantum Leap’ dating site Jones uses.

As Deborah Jermyn said in her round up, there were also many absences, and in each lacunae lies a story of underprivilege. For academics interdisciplinary work requires a breadth of ambition. Like the creators of the films, TV shows and novels, as academics we must journey beyond the shores of our comfortable home disciplines and transition.

Fjoralba Miraka writes:
In view of the turmoil created after two of the most significant political events in recent years – Brexit and the Trump Election – the conference came as a breath of fresh air, attracting interested scholars from both sides of the Atlantic, who wished to reflect on the much-discussed and multifarious special relationship between the US and the UK.

The range of themes presented and discussed was wide, covering disciplines as broad as literature, film, and politics, among other. Similarly, the idea of transatlantic love was examined by Manuela Ruiz, who argued that film representations of love across the Atlantic can be best examined and understood under the prism of cosmopolitanism, whereas Jay Bamber’s presentation focused on the Working Title comedies – closely related to the Heritage Film genre – and explored how the genre’s space is a setting in which Americanness and Englishness can become contested identities. In the same vein, Anna Martonfi utilised The Ghost Goes West (1935), starring Robert Donat and Jean Parker, to interrogate how this transatlantic romance designated Americanness as a kind of ‘Ignorant Other’, reflecting the social and political context and Anglo-American relations of the time.

In a panel to explore very contemporary political concerns, Shelley Cobb took a historical perspective to explore political special relationships between Thatcher and Reagan and proposed these two be seen as a powerful ‘celebrity political couple’, cementing a pattern for the two countries’ future relations. Hannah Hamad explored representations of Tony Blair and George W. Bush as a now infamous political ‘bromance’, resonating with this popular film genre and its representation of male intimacy. Neil Ewen focused on the current putative bromance between Trump and Nigel Farage, and highlighted its place within the general context of a populist turn on both sides of the Atlantic as well as the role of the media in elaborating this special relationship.

The final session included discussion of the cultural nuances and sensitivities revealed through forms of transatlantic adaptation and the functioning of time in narrative media. Overall, the thematic of love generated a breadth of historical and cultural material which led to illuminating exchanges on very contemporary theoretical concerns.

Alexis Weedon is Research Professor of Publishing at the University of Bedfordshire and co-author with Vincent L Barnett of Glyn as Novelist, Moviemaker, Glamour Icon and Businesswoman (Ashgate 2014). With Karen Randell, she co-authored ‘Reconfiguring Elinor Glyn: Ageing female experience and the origins of the ‘It Girl’ in Deborah Jermyn and Su Holmes (eds) Women, Celebrity and Cultures and Aging: Freeze Frame (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015).

Fjoralba Miraka is a Ph.D student at Roehampton University and teaching associate, with a research focus on the postclassical melodramatic imagination in the Hollywood Renaissance period. She is currently working on a chapter for publication on male melodrama and Scorsese’s early films. She is also writing an entry on the history of Feminist Film Theory for the first Encyclopaedia of Gender, Media and Communication, scheduled for publication in 2019, as part of the ICA series of the Sub-disciplinary Encyclopaedias of Communication.