If you have already read my posts for the films Battle Los Angeles and Warrior you must already know that I find testosterone-driven Hollywood films very useful to grasp the real state of our current gender discourse, and, thus, correct the utopian drive of (pro-feminist) academic theory.
As I have been preaching for the last twenty years one of the very odd effects of feminism is that men routinely incorporate in these macho fantasies female characters that are often much spunkier (I mean agentive in the current academic parlance) than most female characters imagined by women writers. Are you worried that your little daughter is too fond of princesses (who need rescuing)? No problem: have her see Guillermo del Toro’s Pacific Rim. She’ll find there Mako Mori (played by Rinko Kikuchi), co-piloting with a man a gigantic robot… and kicking to pieces the colossal sea monsters that threaten to exterminate the human species. Yes, rescuing us.
Travis Beacham and Guillermo del Toro borrow for the plot of Pacific Rim two classics of post-WWII Japanese popular culture: the giant monster Godzilla and the giant robot Mazinger-Z. Godzilla first appeared in 1954 in the eponymous film by Ishirō Honda and has spawned other 28 films (by Toho Company), plus the Hollywood version, and countless apparitions in other media. He is a ‘kaiju’ or monster, and indeed the origin of the long list of Japanese ‘kaiju movies.’ In case we miss the allusion, Beacham and del Toro call their frightening amphibious monsters from the abyss ‘kaijus.’ Mazinger, which appeared in 1972 as a character in the popular anime TV series, is the originator of the immensely popular ‘mecha’ (or giant robot) sub-genre of Japanese culture. In Pacific Rim, the mecha are called ‘jaegers’ (or hunters). The idea is quite simple: a devastating species of ‘kaijus’ emerges from the deep to wipe out the human species and colonise Earth –nothing will stop them, except the (quite cumbersome) ‘jaegers.’ Ironically, the creatures can only be destroyed by using a nuclear device –I say ironically because Godzilla is the product of the atomic bombs dropped by the Americans on Japan.
Now, here’s the funny thing: the jaegers require not one but two pilots who must be connected via a neural interface with each other and with the machine –one is the left hemisphere, the other the right one of the mecha’s brain. The pairs are mostly male but the film focuses on a mixed-gender team.
Pacific Rim would never pass the Bechdel test, which comic book artist Alison Bechdel introduced in her strip Dykes to Watch Out For (1985). A pro-feminist movie should: 1) have at least two women in it, 2) who talk to each other, 3) about something besides a man. In Pacific Rim we don’t see any women until the classic first turning point (minute 20). Once Mako is introduced, as a demure scout for new male pilot talent, she’s alone for the rest of the movie –there’s a Russian female pilot but they never speak to each other. Predictably, Mako is chosen by hunk Raleigh (Charlie Hunnam) to replace her dead brother. Unpredictably, his choice is based on his feeling perfect empathy with her, based on her combat and pilot skills and not on sexual attraction.
The obstacle she needs to overcome is her protective dad, Stacker Pentecost, the military officer that runs the ‘jaegers’ in full rebellion against the inefficient political authorities. Here’s another unexpected twist: the father (Idris Elba) is black and he has raised his Japanese adoptive daughter on his own. He’s protective but not obnoxious and soon sees that Mako must be allowed to make her choices. Do tell me about another film were you see this unlikely racial/gender/parenting combination. Even more: another pilot team is former by two Australian men, father and son, and, yes, the father is also a single dad. He even tells Raleigh when his son misbehaves that it might be his own fault for hesitating to give him a hug when required. Again: name a film with not one but two single dads, doing on the whole very well.
Mako is, surely, closely related to Sayaka Yumi, the girl who piloted the ‘female mecha’ Aphrodite-A in the Mazinger-Z series. The idea that robots are male or female is, of course, very silly but the image of Aphrodite-A firing her Oppai Missile System (yes, ‘boob’ missile system) has staid in the imaginary of all kids born in the 1960s. It seems that Sayaki never yelled said “breasts out” in the same way that Mazinger’s pilot Koji Kabuto yelled “fists out” to launch its missiles, but Spanish boys playing in school yards made Sayaki’s war cry also part of our culture. Anyway: here’s my addition to the Blechdel test –a heroine is not a heroine unless that is her story. Ergo: neither Mako nor Sayaki are heroines. They are sidekicks and, well, poor Mako is a little bit of a liability for Raleigh, as she still suffers from the childhood trauma of seeing Tokyo wiped out and collapses a few minutes before the final attack is carried out. Raleigh does rescue her, I’m afraid, but, then, it is clear, he could not have succeeded without her.
Where am I going with all this? Well, Pacific Rim teaches boys that girls can make excellent team mates, to begin with. Also that being a single dad is ok, whether of a boy or a girl. Not bad, all considered. It celebrates brute force but rejects interpersonal violence. Now, the problem is how I convince my little nieces that Mako is much cooler than any idiotic princess. Also, how we women start creating other Makos that instead of sea monsters fight (teamed up with men) the real monster: inequality.
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