GI Jane(1997)
17/07/07 12:00
Oh Demi Moore! It's so easy to forget now that you
are down to a single facial expression and have
downsized your ta-tas to demure "woman of a certain
age" B-cups that once upon a time you aspired towards
capital-A Actress-ness. GI Jane was pretty
much your last shot, since I'm too polite to bring up
Passion of Mind, or, more accurately, have
too much self-regard to actually watch it. Not to
diminish your current acting challenge, as devoted
wife to Ashton Kutcher, but I think he's the only
shiny man-statue you're likely to get.
Coming off of Striptease, GI Jane was Demi's chance to redeem herself by doing an important film. Director Ridley Scott only does important films, and he clearly felt the fictional story of the first woman to become a Navy SEAL was so important that he had the entire film scored with important music. It's overwrought, self-serious and melodramatic: Scott doesn't even run opening titles or credits, instead going straight into the "dum-DUM-dum-dum" deadline strings and fast talk on the floor of the Capitol. The incredible thing is, it works. GI Jane is so earnest in it's important filmness, Scott, unlike every other director to work with Demi Moore, never gives us a gratuitous titty shot. Why? Because in this ostensibly feminist fantasy, Demi's not portraying a woman at all, but a gay man.
As my expert SEAL commentator points out, real Navy SEALs are buit like fire hydrants. The fellows that train with Demi are tall, fresh from Crunch, and completely hairless, a pool scene waiting to happen. Demi's character, Jordan O'Neil, walks in on the boys in their underwear. A lot.
Of course, the gender issues and the recent (at the time) implementation of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" means that Jordan's sexuality must be dealt with. When she is asked to be the first woman to enter SEAL training, the senator fighting for her inclusion does what her military superiors cannot, and verifies her heterosexuality. Not only does Jordan have a man, he's a Navy man, too, named . . . Royce. Jordan and Royce. Royce and Jordan. Later in the film, Jordan is befriended by a nurse. There is not a moment of believable lesbian sexual tension between the two women, because, well, you have to have two women for that.
The beefcake, the unisex names, the lack of titty, and the times all lead me to think that as much as GI Jane tried to be a serious movie about women in the military, in the end it is about gays in the military, specifically gay men. The other recruits are suspicious of Jordan's motives when she tries to be helpful, and panic, genuinely panic, at the prospect of sharing shower facilities. This seems more in line with prison soap--dropping scenarios than the way men actually respond to women in the workplace. Viggo Mortenson's Reno 911 shorts and mustache don't butch things up, either, but the film's tone, so sincere, so devoid of both irony and any conception of the way straight couples actually talk (Jordan to Royce: "get your dick back in here!") probably contributes more than anything to its possible queerness:
out of a possible 5 collarless gauze shirts I give it a 4
Coming off of Striptease, GI Jane was Demi's chance to redeem herself by doing an important film. Director Ridley Scott only does important films, and he clearly felt the fictional story of the first woman to become a Navy SEAL was so important that he had the entire film scored with important music. It's overwrought, self-serious and melodramatic: Scott doesn't even run opening titles or credits, instead going straight into the "dum-DUM-dum-dum" deadline strings and fast talk on the floor of the Capitol. The incredible thing is, it works. GI Jane is so earnest in it's important filmness, Scott, unlike every other director to work with Demi Moore, never gives us a gratuitous titty shot. Why? Because in this ostensibly feminist fantasy, Demi's not portraying a woman at all, but a gay man.
As my expert SEAL commentator points out, real Navy SEALs are buit like fire hydrants. The fellows that train with Demi are tall, fresh from Crunch, and completely hairless, a pool scene waiting to happen. Demi's character, Jordan O'Neil, walks in on the boys in their underwear. A lot.
Of course, the gender issues and the recent (at the time) implementation of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" means that Jordan's sexuality must be dealt with. When she is asked to be the first woman to enter SEAL training, the senator fighting for her inclusion does what her military superiors cannot, and verifies her heterosexuality. Not only does Jordan have a man, he's a Navy man, too, named . . . Royce. Jordan and Royce. Royce and Jordan. Later in the film, Jordan is befriended by a nurse. There is not a moment of believable lesbian sexual tension between the two women, because, well, you have to have two women for that.
The beefcake, the unisex names, the lack of titty, and the times all lead me to think that as much as GI Jane tried to be a serious movie about women in the military, in the end it is about gays in the military, specifically gay men. The other recruits are suspicious of Jordan's motives when she tries to be helpful, and panic, genuinely panic, at the prospect of sharing shower facilities. This seems more in line with prison soap--dropping scenarios than the way men actually respond to women in the workplace. Viggo Mortenson's Reno 911 shorts and mustache don't butch things up, either, but the film's tone, so sincere, so devoid of both irony and any conception of the way straight couples actually talk (Jordan to Royce: "get your dick back in here!") probably contributes more than anything to its possible queerness:
out of a possible 5 collarless gauze shirts I give it a 4
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