Surrealism in Film: A Perfect Playground for Women
Surrealism has long been an art and literary movement dominated by men. And by long, I mean centuries long. Women were highly revered for their beauty and the female figure became a transcendent symbol that is undoubtedly canon to the movement. Women were seen solely as muses and muses most remained. This, however, didn’t stop some female artists from disregarding the whole “men playing God” thing (note to the nineteenth-century surrealist girlies, the men are still at it). Female surrealists persevered through the ages despite not being privy to as much publicity as their male counterparts; Magical surrealist painter, Leonara Carrington, notably once declared: “I warn you, I refuse to be an object”.
Her words effortlessly captured the tenacity of female surrealists. Similarly, Lee Miller’s contributions to the works of the surrealist photographer Man Ray are unjustly undermined. and should serve to remind us of the invisible hand women have played in the movement. Miller once retrieved a negative chucked by a dissatisfied Ray from the trash, reimagined it and printed it herself and the piece was positively received. Yet in the surrealist art scene at the time, she was merely seen as his lover, muse and subject. Surrealism as a movement has ironically squandered its intended purpose of exploring otherness and expanding the human mind by artistically repackaging its sexism.
Beyond the days of yore and through the medium of television and film, surrealism has the potential to be the perfect unhinged playground for women. A chance to actually give space to whacky shit and provide the world with works that creatively centre women. One of the greatest female surrealists Germaine Dulac’s film, The Seashell and the Clergyman, was banned in Britain after a review from the British Board of Film Classification. The BBFC said it was ‘so cryptic as to be almost meaningless’. 1920’s Britain just wasn’t ready for Dulac’s weirdness, I fear.
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Surrealism and avant garde media appeal to those of us who distrust linear narratives, who feel nothing is ever that clear, simple and straight to the point. Avant garde media pushes boundaries and sometimes as a viewer it feels like my proverbial third eye is opening up. Sounds silly, I know, but the world in most cases treats women in an incredibly binary way. Women ought to do ‘a’ and women ought not to do ‘b’. A miserable black and white world of ones and zeroes. Surrealism seeks to contort and shift reality, disarming our need to rationalise everything. Having all the right footings to explore women in our entirety and in a more unique way than a blockbuster by Warner Bros could ever possibly achieve, if it’s allowed.
Writer and libertarian feminist, Angela Carter, discusses her complicated affinity with surrealist artists in her essay, ‘The Alchemy of the Word: Angela Carter’s Revision of Surrealism’. She comments on her disappointment with a movement that aims to cultivate explorative thought, by stating that she gave up surrealism because of the patronising attitudes of male artists”
“I wanted my fair share of the imagination, too, not an excessive amount, I wasn’t greedy. Just an equal share in the right to vision”.
But in my eyes, her lamentations sound kinda timid. Women deserve and have the power to be the priesthoods of more than an ‘equal’ share to vision: as both masters and muses. Maya Deren was a woman who refused to not just have a piece of the pie, she sought to engorge the whole damn thing. Deren was a Ukrainian-American director, known for her brilliant experimental filmmaking, as she put it, “in film I make the world dance”. Deren was an insatiable innovator and used uncanny camera and post-production techniques to explore surrealism in her output. Her 1943 short film, Meshes of the Afternoon, which she directed and featured in, is an example of her brilliance in the avant garde sphere; The film is a disjointing, bizarre and surreal look at our idea of ‘self’ and how our subconscious can take us on a wild ride.
Lenore Zion and Nick Antoscas’s mind fuck of a tv show, Brand New Cherry Flavour, is a recent example of surrealism aiding in creating a fully actualised female character. Based on a novel of the same name, the 2021 Netflix eight-part series plays in both the horror and surrealist space. What is most appealing about this combo that would make most squirm and look away, is that it is just as committed to building out this unearthly world as it is to character development - the showrunners were focused on more than just creeping us out.
Protagonist, Lisa, moves to LA and is tricked by a sexually inappropriate producer, who wants another chance at success, and buys the rights to her film from underneath her. This pushes her into the arms of a witch called Boro, and it only gets stranger from here. From throwing up cats and participating in strange ritual practices, Lisa’s character is an unrelenting allegory about the price of power. Her actions are highly questionable but it is the macabre that surrounds the show’s events that make this seemingly MeToo-inspired limited series even more engrossing.
Ultimately, surreal media aims to marvel, confuse and disorientate. It's not afraid of diverging. Yet, historically, gender politics has been a blind spot of the movement, which is beyond stupefying: Women have so many stories to tell and telling them outside the barriers of our sexist linear programming would be incredibly insightful. As we move forward and shows like Brand New Cherry Flavour find success, I want to see more women make weird shit that shifts the axis and permits us to show up in weirder and more wonderful ways.
Words: Anesu Hwenga
