Reflections Of A Feminist In Film School
I am a very fortunate young filmmaker. I get to study Film and TV Production at the best film school in the country: the University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic Arts. As a female, I realize what a huge opportunity I have, especially when I hear the repetitive horror stories of the Hollywood Gender Gap. USC itself has taken huge strides to combat this, as my university houses Annenberg’s Media, Diversity & Social Change Initiative, a watchdog research group for gender inequality in the entertainment industry. In Hollywood, there’s a 5:1 ratio of men to women working in film, with women making up just 9% of directors, 15% of writers, 25% of producers, 20% of editors and just 2% of cinematographers. And among the student body itself, I have heard rumors that my graduating class in the cinema school is the first admitted with an equal gender ratio.
Even with the constant collaboration in our amateur film crews, it can be easy to get competitive — especially when you study alongside some of the best young filmmakers in the world. Still, I find myself feeling jealous almost exclusively of my male classmates. I have begun to have issues distinguishing between whether I’m feeling typical artist envy aimed at my male classmates, or a fair frustration with how the film industry favors them. For the most part, film school has felt feminist-friendly to me, but sometimes a twinge in my stomach reminds me that the playing field is far from even.
One of my first production professors tended to avoid critiquing the female students’ work, as though he did not want to hurt our feelings, or as though we could not handle the feedback. He would grade my male classmates harder on their short films, and gave them more honest criticism. I first noticed this when we received our midterm grades, my male classmates all groaned over their reports while the girls all looked at each other with confusion. It might seem bizarre to feel jealous of harsh criticism, but if I want to last in the cutthroat boys’ club of The Industry, I need all the feedback and preparation I can get. Often, my male film professors seem blind to the Hollywood Gender Gap, perhaps because lately they find their own classrooms filled with women.
I was once given an assignment to present one of my all time favorite scenes to the class for us to break down structurally. I chose The Hallway Scene from “Juno”. When the characters finished performing Diablo Cody’s biting dialogue, my professor asked the class who the protagonist of the scene was. All my male classmates responded: “Paulie Bleaker” or “Michael Cera” and my professor agreed with them. Perturbed and frustrated, I pointed out the film’s title “Juno”, the point of view from Juno and screentime given to Juno. According to my professor and classmates, because “Juno bitches at Paulie,” Paulie becomes the protagonist. My frustration extended beyond the fact that my professor favored my male classmates’ opinions over mine. How could they claim that the title female character, created by a woman (a rare occurrence), was not the protagonist of her own film? I gave up on trying to argue with them over the scene, but I still wish my professor had given a fairer, less biased reading.
That was irritating enough, but when opportunities from outside of the classroom present themselves the difference between jealousy and inequality really muddles. By the end of our first year, one male student in my major had the opportunity to direct two professional music videos for a mainstream label. Another had the opportunity to backpack through four Asian countries with three other male students to make a documentary for the university. When I watch their work, I cannot tell if I feel envious of their fantastic art and talent or if it is because my female classmates and I have not gotten similar opportunities, possibly because of our gender. If my female classmates are receiving similarly career-advancing opportunities, it has certainly not been apparent to me. We all got into the most selective and prestigious film school in the country, but outside of the classroom my female classmates and I struggle to make equal opportunities for ourselves.
I try to stay positive, assume the best out of the industry and hope those in change want to make a difference since the recent extensive call-out of the Hollywood Gender Gap. But the repetitive statistics exemplifying all the forces working against my dreams push me to feel that maybe my male classmates really do still have it better than me. As I bust my butt, the male gatekeepers of Hollywood reiterate these reminders. This summer I worked three simultaneous unpaid internships at different production companies. At two of these companies, not only was I the only female intern, but also I was the only female working at the company, period. I literally went three months without seeing another female director, producer or writer even visit the office. My roommate interned at another production company and she described how it took her half the summer to convince her male bosses to let her help on set, but when a male intern came in they immediately started showing him the ropes on set.
When I look at my generation of filmmakers and the talent that surrounds me at my incredible university, I have high hopes for the future of the film industry. But female filmmakers like myself should not feel guilty when we experience jealousy over our male counterpart’s opportunities or favoritism. Instead, we need to channel this envy into identifying if and when the industry denies us these chances because of our gender. The emotionally heightened state of hypervigilance we find ourselves in has the chance to power our progress. I have to listen to my gut, even if my gut is just jealous.
