Summertime Sadness: On Queer Women In Cinema
This article contains spoilers for the film ‘Summertime’ (2015)
For some time I have been wondering; could I think of a single rom-com centring queer women that didn’t involve a stereotypical sexual ‘awakening’, nor end tragically? Though my repertoire is, admittedly, limited, the realisation that I couldn’t was disappointing (though unsurprising). Despite film after film of heterosexual romance overcoming all odds, queer relationships are rarely given the chance to do the same.
Today I saw ‘Summertime’ on a whim. Directed by Catherine Corsini, and starring Izïa Higelin and Cécile de France, the film tells the story of two young women — Delphine and Carole — falling in love in the early ’70s. Delphine’s father’s falls ill, leading her to return from Paris to her home in rural Limousin. The film follows her attempts to reconcile her new-found feminist politics and, most crucially, her relationship with Carole, with the prejudice and ingrained misogyny of small-town life.
‘Summertime’ is poignant, painful, and funny all at once, and for the most part, a pleasant surprise in a niche so full of devastatingly awful cinema. I allowed myself to hope it might be The One; a film where two queer women fall in love, overcome ignorance, and live happily ever after in a world of cinematographically stunning landscape shots.
God, it came so close.
Sadly, ‘Summertime’ trips at the hurdles of so many of its predecessors. Whilst it avoids a commendable number of tropes associated with lesbian cinema (read: no-one dies), it does still involve an ostensibly straight woman falling for a queer woman and discovering her ‘true’ sexuality, and then, of course, the compulsory bittersweet ending.
I want to talk about how ‘Summertime’’s plot defied cliché, but also the stereotypes it enforced that I, as a queer woman, am growing tired of. So that’s what I’m going to do.
From the film’s outset, Delphine shows no qualms about her sexual orientation. Despite feeling like a “hick” in Paris, she has prior relationships with women and is firm in her intention not to marry a local man, as is expected of her. This is a refreshing change from the all-too-common narrative of small-town girl moving to the big city, and realising her queerness after being seduced by an older woman. However, they are, of course, both feminine and conventionally attractive. The nit-picker in me can’t help but think that Delphine’s farmhand character would have been a prime opportunity to showcase some vintage butchiness.
Whilst Delphine’s backstory subverts cliché, Carole’s is less successful. She the charismatic face of a Parisian women’s liberation movement, and I was as surprised as Delphine to discover that she is initially in a relationship with a man. Whilst plenty of queer women can be — and are — in relationships with men, Carole clearly does not initially see herself as one of these. She tells Delphine she is “not like that” before inevitably proving that she is, in fact, just like that.
Women being ‘turned’ by meeting the woman of their dreams is a crass and overused device that felt particularly laboured in this instance. Carole’s unexpected discovery of her queerness is incongruous with many aspects of her independent, self-assured personality; in particular her commitment to the women’s liberation movement, and her several close queer friends*. I was disappointed by the wasted opportunity for confident bisexual representation, simplified (as it all too often is) to a binary transition from straight to gay. Whilst many queer women may not realise our sexuality until later in life, this is not the case for a large proportion. Every cinematic portrayal of a relationship between adult women (that I can think of) hinges on a sexual awakening for at least one of those involved. Particularly in films set in the modern day, bestowing this naïveté on 50% of queer women is unrealistic.
Let us return to Carole’s male partner, who is a perfectly characterised ‘brocialist’, simmering with resentment over losing his girlfriend to a woman (read: inferior). Whilst he tolerates Carole’s focus on women’s rights, he and his friends clearly see such issues as beneath them. He sees himself as progressive, yet still questions whether Carole and Delphine’s relationship is anything more than sex, seemingly unable to comprehend the possibility of a meaningful relationship in the absence of a man. The portrayal of a heterosexual man focused on class-related struggles yet blinkered to the intersections of (in this instance) sexuality and gender hits the nail on the head for relevance and accuracy, even in 2016.
So, as ever, queerness proves to be a homewrecker. Whilst Carole’s split from her boyfriend is the plot’s collateral damage (this one’s for you, Tara), it is the tension between Delphine and her homophobic mother on which the plot hinges. The outcome is — unsurprisingly — negative, and Delphine is left with the choice between her old life in Limousin, and a new life in Paris, with Carole.
Choices like this are so heartbreakingly real to so many queer women, even in 2016. ‘Summertime’ left me wondering; why couldn’t it have worked out for a queer couple in film, just this once? Several tender scenes between Carole and Delphine’s mother, Monique (Noémie Lvovsky), ensure that there could have been a perfectly natural resolution — one that might have left the hopeful queer viewer a little less downcast. God knows there’s enough tragic queer ladies on film already.
To end on a high note, ‘Summertime’’s greatest strength is, unequivocally, its authentic rendering of two women falling in love. The overt sexuality of ‘Blue Is The Warmest Colour’ is toned down, replaced with a comfortable and tender sensuality. Perhaps it is as simple as ‘Summertime’ being directed by a woman, whilst ‘Blue…’ fails to break free from the male gaze.
‘Summertime’ is a hazily warm depiction of the smallest crystalline moments of a queer relationship: Carole yapping like a puppy at Delphine, the pair spooning as the sun shines in through closed curtains, Delphine kissing Carole’s palm after popping a blister, Carole teaching Delphine useless phrases in Spanish. As a queer woman watching this film, I saw my own relationship in these moments.
Though Carole and Delphine may not have got a happy ending, those brief moments let me feel how I imagine the average straight person feels watching an average heterosexual rom-com. No, ‘Summertime’ wasn’t perfect, but it was still something special.
*This isn’t to say that feminists and/or people with queer friends cannot be straight; more that they are likely to have undergone rigorous self-examination with regard to their sexuality.
