The world of cinema, like any other, has found itself faced with increased scrutiny in recent times (and rightly so) for the lack of representation of the marginalised on the big screen. Serious conversations surrounding the pressing need for more on-screen representation of women and minorities alike have emerged. I used to regard myself as one of the people that ushered those conversations in social spaces. This was only possible because of the onset of the pandemic. One found amidst this crisis, a newfound time for a re-introduction to films. And like any novice navigator into the world of cinema, I too started my journey with visits and occasional revisits to the conventionally popular ones. It was only a matter of time before I realised that celebrated movies that one has to love to bear the tag of a “cinephile” would not cater to my liking.

While I admit that it took me longer than it should have, I was soon to realize that the reason I despised those films was warranted by my dissent toward the little-to-no representation of women in them. This was followed by a revelation that while I and others alike are caught up in highlighting the exigencies for equal representation, we tend to leave out a pivotal aspect, namely misrepresentation. And as important as accentuating the need for representation is, it does only so little when it fails to provide rightful representation to those who deserve it and those it set out to serve.

The curse of fixed narratives

There has indeed been a significant rise in women in cinema in comparison to the past years. There is however a need to understand that this fact is often over-glorified and taken as a veil to overshadow the reality that the agency and content women are provided within films only reinforces problematic narratives, both new and old. Traditionally, women’s roles in cinema have been omnipresent as extensions of the male characters. For years, along with a nominal amount of female characters, they were also given insignificant roles that were often victimised or painted as the damsels-in-distress. This was followed by a seemingly changed narrative of the popular manic pixie dream girl trope, which was unfortunately another outwardly creative reinforcement of the overly normalised male gaze.

The case is no different at present because the “improved” statistical representation of women in films is limited to a fixed spectrum of representation which entails a larger problem of misrepresentation. In recent times, under the guise of representation, we get emblematic portrayals of women who are either pixies or powerhouses. The problem with contemporary and often wrongly celebrated representation of women in cinema is the over-acclamation of extraordinary superwomen. The women we see on the screen are pinioned to normative versions that fail to mirror the multi-faceted aspects and complexities of being a woman. This narrative may seem progressive on the face of it because we finally get to see women winning, but is that all women are? Two extremes on the spectrum that starts at being vulnerable and end at being fiercely unshackled? Where are the normal women in films?

A profuse search for normal women in film

The (growing) disconnect between what is perceived as being the “right” portrayal of women in film and their actual lives is not just disappointing but equally misleading.  From an alleged shift in the conventional patriarchal stereotypes that used to be circulated in the characterization of women on the screen, we are now met with a nearly invisible and unreachable facade of a badass girl boss which is not only damaging but also demeaning to the numerous variations of what it means to be a woman.

So, as the new year dawned on us, I wanted to see films that told stories of women in their ordinary, mundane lives. I wanted to see all the manifestations of women around me on the big screen and so I took a vow to consciously look for films that depict female characters in their most normal routines. In this heaving world, we often forget the beauty that lies in mundanity and the underrated strength required to endure it. We do not know how to take breaks and we certainly do not know when to stop. This is especially true for the women we see off the screen and since films are manifestations of our perceptions of the world, the case for women we see on the screen is no exception. The depictions of women in mainstream cinema are either too narrow-reaching or too far-fetched; we do not seem to know when to draw a line. We do not seem to recognize the median.

Films that get it right

Among the overly proclaimed “gems” that are defining the cinematic world, it is difficult and tiring to look for normalcy. However, even amidst this all, there are a few films that perfectly capture the ordinary but nuanced existence of women’s lives that are overlooked and those that we find ourselves longing for.

Certain Women, 2016

Popularly acclaimed as Kelly Reichardt’s best work, Certain Women is a carefully painted portrait of the facets of being a woman. It tells three stories of the loneliness and normalcy of women in their impressionably normal lives that tangentially intersect. The notions of the quiet hurdles that women are pushed toward and constrained by being explored melancholically in this film are bound to quench the thirst for a rendering of the normal lives of normal women.

Poetry, 2010

A rare feat, Lee Chang-dong manages to successfully define Poetry as one of the most beautiful and accurate depictions of women in films directed by men. This South Korean film follows an elderly woman navigating her life with a child-like curiosity, who enrols in poetry classes as she nears senescence, providing the viewers with a subtle critique of masculinity from the perspective of a woman.

Never Rarely Sometimes Always, 2020

Eliza Hittman’s recent film, an often overlooked masterpiece, succeeds in providing a meeting point for the familiarity and horrors of the coming-of-age years. It is an unconventionally quiet film but the weight that silence entails on the viewer is certainly heavy.  Following a young teen’s journey to receive an abortion, it takes the viewer on a journey of their own by providing a short but tough look into her life, making it personal as your own.

Only Yesterday, 1991

Built on the premises of a 27-year-old Taeko’s transience of self-discovery through a series of flashbacks of her younger years, Isao Takahata manages to score yet another unforgettable triumph for Studio Ghibli. Being an animated movie, it is often met by presuppositions of not evoking distinctive sentiments but all that fades as the initial scenes roll down and the familiarity of the looming dreams of our younger selves seeps in.

Recognizing the blurry lines

The problem of no representation has now swiftly evolved and disguised itself as misrepresentation and this we often seem to miss, to leave out of conversations. Women’s representation in films is largely specific to being restricted within the two genres, each of which is equally troublesome. It is no secret that women are always subjected to unreasonable expectations and standards set by patriarchy and its extensions. These stereotypes are reinforced by the tools of the media, making it all the more essential for cinema to promote realistic images of women. What we need to see is not saving but it most certainly is not exhaustion and insecurity stemming from trying to achieve unrealistic standards.

Women do not need to be extraordinary for their stories to be showcased and their voices to be heard. Women need to just be seen and shown as they are. So how about allowing them to just be and showing just that?

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Ashlesha Joshi is a student of law and social sciences at the Kathmandu School of Law. Her research interests lie in the intersections of the sociology of law, human rights and constitutions. She can be reached at ashhleshaa@gmail.com.