A Feminist Movie Review: Crimson Peak

The official movie poster.

At the risk of stepping on the toes of my classmates who run film review blogs, I would like to take this opportunity to write about a film I saw recently and loved, not just for its aesthetics (which were gorgeous) or its plot (which was spooky) or its gore (which was a little too much for me, but was all artfully done, so I handled it).

I loved Crimson Peak because it was a true tribute to women in film -- all because it didn't make a big deal about being a film about two women.

Just so you're warned, there will be spoilers beyond this point: read at your own risk!

Set in the turn of the 20th century, Crimson Peak is the new movie by director Guillermo del Toro of Pan's Labyrinth fame. Starring Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, and Tom Hiddleston, it follows the life of Edith Cushing (Wasikowska), an aspiring writer (and young feminist) as she falls in love with a mysterious man (Hiddleston) and becomes engaged in a dark scheme involving his sister Lucille (Chastain). Edith ends up further entrenched than she ever bargained for, and finds a well-suited sparring partner in Lucille.

And that's what I loved about Crimson Peak. Although it is a love story between a woman and a man, and although the love is real, the real struggle is between the Edith and Lucille: they are matched in wit and intelligence, and, by the end of the film, with weapons. Because finally, when Edith has reached the climax of her story and she must fight for her life against dark forces, she is allowed to do it for herself; no man saves her from her own fate. 

(A fate, which, incidentally, is allowed to be as bloody and brutal as any battle a man is allowed to fight. Edith and Lucille do not sacrifice brutality because they are feminine women. The effect is visually striking and politically reverberating). 

A moment from the final battle

It's also worth noting that there is a sex scene in Crimson Peak, and unlike nearly every other sex scene in cinematic history, it is the man who is undressed, all so that the overall message was that the woman in the scene could take control of her own sexuality. A conscious choice made to further the feminist ideas of the characters? I was shocked and loving it. 

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the Bechdel test for movies (Does the movie, 1) have at least two female characters, who 2) have a conversation with each other about 3) anything but a man?) 

Crimson Peak didn't just pass the Bechdel test: it bludgeoned it over the head.

(If you've seen the film, you'll know I just made a joke. Yay!)

Even more thrilling was the research I did after I saw it, when I found out that del Toro took a pay cut on his own salary to convince the studio that funding a female-centric film was a worthy venture.

SO MUCH STABBING

If this was a review blog, I would give this film five stars; even if you're not particularly interested in its feminist tones, it is still an aesthetically beautiful film (as del Toro always delivers) with a good story, twists and turns, plenty of blood, and one particular twist which had me shouting "OH GROSS OH MY GOD" to the person I was seeing the film with.