by Travis Bean
You can usually tell a lot about a film during it’s final moments—that’s obvious. Duh. But sometimes we may not realize it. When Daniel Plainview yells, “I’m finished!” at the end of There Will Be Blood, it’s the ultimate bloody exemplification and culmination of his greed. Most people can probably see that.
Maybe something less obvious? At the end of The Fury, take John Cassavettes’ explosive (heh heh) demise—it’s actually capping on the theme of children feeling pressure from the world ran by adults around them. He’s the adult, she’s the kid being pressured, and you can see their contentious relationship building throughout. Escalation, change in charge, yada yada yada.
You see where I’m going with this—endings are always a cap on events, and yeah, intrinsically they often exemplify the themes going on throughout. But then, sometimes films are just so cryptic that only the most active viewers would realize what an ending means.
You could look at the ending of Ordet (when Inger comes back to life) as the ultimate thematic endorsement of faith and religion. Or, if you know anything about director Carl Th. Dreyer’s career, you’d know he merely wrote about religion and its control over people as opposed to endorsing it, just like he did with a number of social issues (Master of the House, Gertrud). You might go as far as to say he had an extremely cynical view of religion. Every frame, moment of mise-en-scene in Ordet displays selfish people debating religion, life, etc., but never looking each other in the eye (Eric Henderson once wrote about Gertrud: “Mere eye contact is an event of cosmic significance…”).
Throughout the film, the men mourn over Inger's body (both during her illness and her death), wishing and praying she could come back to life. Johannes preaches to them, claiming she will die (and never come back to life) until they truly believe in God. For now: they just attach themselves to the idea of God, and only use religion as a crutch and an instigator, to the point where it dominates trivialities, such as whom one is allowed to wed. The little girl is excited for her mother to die (seriously, this movie is uber cynical), claiming that Johannes has promised to bring her back to life. When he reveals he may not be able to bring her back to life because of the family's lack of faith, the girl becomes upset.
"Little girl," he says, "a mother in heaven is much better than a mother on earth."
The child loves her mother unblinkingly, and her immaturity can be understood. But the grown-ups of the film pretty much mimic the girl in their selfishness, thus when Johannes finally rises Inger from her grave, the "conversion" to truly believing in God isn't the sad, sappy ending many believe, but instead a dark and accusatory one—their “faith” in God is a childish one (in Dreyer’s eyes). Inger's first question is whether or not her child died during childbirth, to which her husband replies (I'm paraphrasing here), "Yes, he's alive. He's in Heaven, and he's alive." This statement is met with a look of grief from Inger, and in this beautiful shot, we see the contradiction firmly in place for the ending. It doesn't surprise me at all to find out Dreyer was slightly agnostic—agnostics don't have to firmly attach their belief to any one entity, any one god. So when the husband claims he's been converted, it could be seen as an expression of the fact that Dreyer believes personal attachments can’t actually be formed with God, no matter how much one may believe it. Faith can always strengthen, and true, unadulterated faith can only be achieved through witnessing the unthinkable, the unimaginable: a miracle. And if you believe that an actual miracle is impossible, then it can be posited that nobody's faith can ever truly reach its peak.
So yeah. Almost always, endings can be explained by looking at plot structure and themes. It can be done by quickly glancing at a film’s most obvious themes, like with The Fury and There Will Be Blood, or you can sit down, really look at the in-roads throughout a film and see how a film’s final moments are actually a definitive demonstration of the subtext and themes. In many movies, literally every frame contributes towards one idea that shapes the ending.
Guardians of the Galaxy has one of the most despicable, aggravating endings I can think of—it’s an ending that both contradicts everything the movie attempted to do thematically by never allowing its characters to transcend patriarchal systems. As a result, it appears as though the film casually endorses and commends patriarchal systems, moreso than any of the other Marvel movies (being force-fed to the masses on a conveyor belt at this point), which all feature male directors beating off to their vigilant-cum-macho ideals; which all feature male protagonists; which all feature male antagonists threatening the male protagonist’s ability to guard the world; which all feature the occasional tertiary female character who, at best, serves as a foil to the male protagonist…who’s world is being threatened by another male antagonist and—
“OKAY WE GET IT.”
Anyway, the line in question comes from Gamora, who says to Star-Lord, with her hand on his shoulder, as he flies the ship away:
“We’ll follow your lead.”
Pretty simple line, right? Might not mean shit. Depends on whether or not you believe Guardians of the Galaxy owns even the slightest hint of an ambitious theme, motifs, imagery, or any other simple-filmmaking-technique-other-than-plot-structure-and-character-development.
I actually do think there’s one forefront theme in this film, and I’d say it’s pretty similar to The Avengers (since none of these Marvel movies have personality and just ape one another): Disconnected people coming together to form a team…
…a family even! Yes that’s right, when all’s said and done, the “Guardians of the Galaxy” are just your typical unconventional ragtag group of misfits and degenerates that mirror Everybody Loves Raymond. Let’s say (for fun!) Star-Lord is Raymond, Gamora is Debra, the foul-mouthed but somehow lovable Rocket is Frank, Robby is Groot (duh), and Drax is the bitchy, yet brawny Marie.
Jokes aside, the movie features many people who lost their families—Star-Lord, Gamora, and Drax’s back-stories feature broken or lost families. Rocket and Groot, as far as I can tell, have no family and only have each other.
This, in turn, leads into a second theme of the film: patriarchal pressures. The manner in which patriarchy binds the characters hints at a very anti-patriarchal commentary. Star-Lord and Ronan are both vulnerable male figures that are either A) threatened by a higher position of power (Ronan threatened by Thanos), or B) reacting to a lack of a family system (Star-Lord lost his mom and dad). Drax’s manly man rage is a reaction to losing his family system, and Gamora’s family was murdered by Thanos. All of these characters' losses have shaped their arcs, personalities, motivations, etc., and added to it all, they are combating a governmental structure, the "law," which could very well be viewed as a patriarchal system attempting to hold them down, imprison them, overpower them.
This is all fine. “Patriarchal structures” can be a theme. My main problem is that none of the character ever actually transcend patriarchal systems, and instead simply fall right back into them as the credits roll. The biggest victim of patriarchal systems happens to be the only woman in the film, and the conclusion of her thematic arc is possibly the most egregious: Gamora is caught within this ultra-masculine patriarchal tussle between two males trying to obtain the key to the universe, yet she never breaks free from the patriarchy—in fact, she lackadaisically falls right back into it.
Now I could sit here and form my argument of casual misogyny and the denigration of female characters in Marvel movies by grabbing dozens of screenshots of both Gamora’s and Black Widow’s asses framed tightly (I wanna see Chris Hemsworth’s booty too!) as they holster their guns, screenshots of them wrapping their legs around men’s necks to fight (so nimble they are!), shots of either Star-Lord, Thor, or Captain America saving them from death (they’re so fragile!), and video of the females using their cunning, seductive methods to extract information from men (because what the fuck else would they do!).
But I’m not going to do that. We all see that stuff, and at this point, there are disproportionate portions of the population that either A) recognize how despicable it is and try to call out the objectification of women through various mediums, or B) rationally explain “I DON’T GIVE FUCK” as they pound themselves to Google image searches of Scarlett Johansson in Under the Skin (I’ll let you guess which group is larger and louder).
No, I think the casual, subtextual misogyny of Guardians of the Galaxy can be seen through how the film handles the patriarchal structures theme. I think, most importantly, it comes down to how you read that last line from Gamora. Is it a complete contradiction of the themes at hand, or is it just a throwaway line that makes you feel nice and sounds like it belongs at the end of a movie?
I’ll go with the former, and if you’re on board with me, I challenge you to really look at this theme, the ins and outs, and recognize how deeply patriarchal tropes are ingrained into this film.
And then recognize that this final line is actually delivered very sentimentally and whole-heartedly.
And then recognize that kids are actually supposed to enjoy this movie.
But let’s start at the beginning, before we all realize how fucked up it is that boys across the nation are screaming with glee about Guardians of the Galaxy, inevitably forcing their dead-eyed parents to buy another goddamn superhero toy. Let’s start with the fact that despite Gamora yearning for her family as well, all the filmmakers concern themselves with is Star-Lord, who, right off the fucking bat, gets a back-story about his dead mother, and then is shown forgetting the name of a woman he fucked the night before or whatever.
It enforces, and perhaps excuses, his demeaning behavior, pointing towards his “tough” past—displayed in a three-minute throwaway scene of limp-dick exposition—as the culprit. Perhaps there are other things that have shaped Star-Lord into a dehumanizing douche, but the movie, the thing we’re watching, has offered up one explanation: His family structure was disrupted. That’s all the movie shows us, that’s the juxtaposition, so what else are we to believe? A scene where Star-Lord watches his mother die is the beginning of his arc. Maybe Freud would have a field day with explaining the relationship between a man’s sex life and a man’s relationship with his mother, but Guardians of the Galaxy, last time I checked, doesn't have very sophisticated filmic aspirations (not that it has to), and is simply content using the lack of a mother figure as an excuse to shape Star-Lord into an immature womanizer who also happens to be incapable of taking any orders from other men because, remember, he lost his dad too.
To be fair, this is just the beginning of his arc. It’s a completely lame and utterly elementary way of introducing a character, but there’s still time to shape Star-Lord as a human being, to redeem him. However, I’d argue Guardians goes full-retard in the other direction, promoting Marvel’s apparent obsession with elevating men into ultimate positions of power.
The Avengers spends most of its running time doing this. And even once the Avengers start to work together to fight Loki, it’s without much help from Black Widow, as both Captain American and Thor save her in key moments. Obtaining the ultimate position of power is so important to men in Marvel movies that it’s practically fucking mythologized, with moments like Coulson’s bloody Captain America trading cards symbolizing both Coulson’s dedication to SHIELD and his apparent infatuation with the "male hero"—or, rather, the male ego, I’d say, since the men’s behavior throughout the film isn’t exactly something I’d promote to my children, boy or girl. But in the latest strew of Marvel movies it’s all the rage, from Thor to Captain America to Iron-Man to Hulk: Men not only protecting women, but protecting an entire race of dewy-eyed underlings running to the store to collect playing cards of their favorite male laboratory-experiment-turned-hero.
Maybe that’s a cynical view. After all, I’m a cynical fuck. But I’m a cynical fuck who also likes to deeply examine movies. So, going back to Guardians, knowing what I know about The Avengers and how the Marvel movies have zero ambition or personality, I can see that Star-Lord’s arc inevitably involves rising to the top, commanding control of not only his micro surroundings, but his macro environment as well. Because he handles his position of power so humbly in the end, we forgive it. But let’s not forget how he obtains it and how it affects those around him.
Basically, the battle between Star-Lord and Ronan is one of male-ego-maniacs. Ronan turns on his master because of something Thanos said:
“You called me boy!” Ronan exclaims at a climactic moment.
I've thought a lot about that line. The movie, as far as I can tell (and I’ve written pretty extensively on the sci-fi genre’s obsession with defamiliarizing environments), is not, in any discernible way, defamiliarizing Ronan’s obsession with intergalactic rule as a means of exploring patriarchal pressures on men to be “MEN.” No, pretty sure the movie isn’t defamiliarizing anything at all—it’s a pretty humdrum action-reaction plot. Which is fine. It's just a straightforward theme of the film. I like that. It is, in fact, just a point in Ronan’s arc that happens to show he’s absolutely fucking terrified about being demasculinized and would destroy the entire universe to prove his maleness.
But being a straightforward sub-theme of the film, it does raise some questions. Here we have the difference between theme and subtext. Total Recall has a theme and an ending that’s enforced by its subtext. All of the linking parts of the film’s universe and all of the information not explicitly announced by the characters (the subtext) is commenting on big-budget action films—the satire runs so deep in Total Recall that director Paul Verhoeven is in a battle with himself to create a film absolutely drenched in the Hollywood formula. In his attempt to embellish American consumerism, Verhoeven chose to dress the film with blatant product placements (Coca-Cola, Fujifilm), mini-malls, faux-vacation technology, and, of course, the most bankable star in the industry (at the time): Arnold Schwarzenegger. Literally every moment in this goofy ass movie, all of the subtext, is dedicated to reinforcing the satire, the commentary, the THEME.
So if the themes of Guardians are “disconnected people coming together to form a family” and "patriarchal pressures," what can we say about the subtext? How is “a dude that’s trying to prove his manhood by destroying the universe” displayed on a nuclear, subtextual level? It isn’t. Or, at the very least, not very well. There aren't key moments of imagery or symbolism that I can recall. Th "boy" line represents the entirety of Ronan’s arc. It’s not something that’s ever brought up again. Same goes for Star-Lord's back-story: What other key moments are there that signal his desire to obtain the patriarchal structure stripped from him as a child?
Before you go defending Star-Lord, exclaiming "THAT'S NOT WHAT STAR-LORD WANTS!!!!!!!" think about that ending one more time: "We'll follow your lead." Star-Lord is at the head of the ship, with a woman at his side, leading a ship full of troubled individuals he helped rehabilitate. The Guardians don't unify into a single, leaderless entity, contradicting both of the film's major themes.
I'm more troubled by the contradiction of the "patriarchal pressures" theme, though. What was James Gunn thinking with this ending? It makes me reconsider everything Guardians was trying to do thematically. It honestly makes me wonder if the whole "patriarchal pressures" thing was just a complete fucking accident. But it couldn't be, right? If it was, that'd be scary purely from a filmmaking perspective—Gunn would just be throwing plot at us, and themes would just be happening to form.
But almost zero movies in the history of movies have done this. Filmmakers have aspirations that run deeper than plot. So, knowing how patriarchal structures have shaped both Star-Lord’s and Ronan’s motivations, let’s think about Gamora, the woman who puts her hand on Star-Lord’s shoulder during her final moment in the film: Gamora’s family system has been disrupted. Both her and Nebula’s family were murdered by Thanos. Now Gamora and Nebula exist in a patriarchal system where not only a man, Thanos, is handing out orders and attempting to rule the universe, but a man within Thanos’ rule, Ronan, is attempting to take over within.
Now consider the fact that Gamora tries to escape patriarchal systems. Here’s where the movie gets into murky territory: What exactly was Gamora’s plan all along? She convinces the Guardians that she’s on their side, that she’s betraying Thanos because he murdered her family. This creates a multitude of questions:
What is Gamora's motivation? Does she want to avenge her family? Where what evidence is there of that? Does she ever state that? Her plan involves stealing the orb and selling it for 4 billion credits. She never says what she hopes to accomplish with that money? Raise an army to attack Thanos? Buy the most deadly missile ever and shoot it at him? Just run away and live rich? So does she want revenge or does she simply want to escape? At what point did she decide she wanted to escape? From the beginning? How does she feel about killing people for years and years? Is she cool with that?
And before I elaborate on that: Why does Nebula contradict Gamora’s plight? She’d rather murder Thanos than steal from him...but then, at the same time, she’s totally cool being under Ronan’s rule?
And this gets into the meat of my argument: Neither Nebula or (especially) Gamora transcend patriarchal systems...despite the fact that this is the theme? As far as I can tell, they each casually fall back into the systems they strove to break out of. When revealing she too wants to betray Thanos, Nebula doesn’t try to create her own identity or her own system, but instead becomes Ronan’s personal assassin.
That's what is driving me banana sandwich about Gamora: There was a chance to do something great and transcendent with this movie! Gamora doesn’t really break away from a man’s control, considering she breaks away from Thanos and just simply joins up with four other men—not only that, but relegates herself to serve as Star-Lord’s secondhand woman, a very “motherly” position at the head of the ship full of misguided misfits.
Maybe I’m crazy, but I think that’s so fucked up. How do you not read into that moment, considering the movie points towards “females breaking free from patriarchal systems” as a prominent theme? Nobody transcends anything. It’s equally dehumanizing to Star-Lord, who, instead of simply gaining a new family, is thrust into the role of the male lead, guiding his ship of freaks throughout the universe (maybe it’s a “white power” argument?) just kidding) but maybe???))). Why can’t Star-Lord transcend patriarchal pressures? Why can’t any of them? Why do they have to fall under someone else’s command? The movie spends so much time building them up as a family unit, but the movie isn’t capable of allowing the tail end of any of the characters’ individual arcs to move beyond such a constricting, continuously looping system?
So now the question becomes: What is theme, and what is subtext? The theme, at this point, is either “patriarchal systems are constricting” or “patriarchal systems are inevitable.” If it’s the latter, then the movie does absolutely nothing to actually enforce that theme and contradicts key moments throughout. Quite simply: That would mean the film is horribly made, which, as a movie watcher, is just fucking annoying.
If it’s the former, if the movie really is striving to out patriarchal systems, then fuck a duck, because I can only assume that the subtextual meaning behind Gamora putting her hand on Star-Lord’s shoulder and saying, “We’ll follow your lead,” is that everyone should stand behind a confident, capable male that also happens to be a womanizing, jejune, intergalactic scallywag that boys throughout America can relate to because, you know, he’s the only white dude in the movie. Also, don't forget, in a minor and equally dehumanzing subplot, Star-Lord tries to and successfully woos Gamora romantically—she's essentially been relegated to the "wife" role in that final shot.
Remember how Tivan's daughter was destroyed when she grabbed the stone earlier in the movie? Well, when Star-Lord grabs it, he’s fortunate enough to have three trusty people stand alongside him—or maybe I should say: Follow his lead. If the movie wanted to transcend patriarchal structures, why wouldn’t anyone else, especially Gamora, grab that stone? Why does it have to be Star-Lord’s ship at the end? Why is it her hand on his shoulder? Because the movie explains none of this and completely contradicts a theme going on throughout, we are left to read subtext, which is dangerous territory in movie analysis: Either the film is completely incompetent, or it casually endorses patriarchal systems. Not sure which is worst.
[Click to collapse...]