Visual Pleasure and Narrative Sherlock pt. 2: Objectifying The Woman

professorfangirl:

(Pt. 1, Watching the Detective)

So if your detective’s too pretty and all the girls & boys & others are looking at him a bit too much and a bit too wrong, then you gotta straighten things out. You better bring in a woman, sexualize the fuck out of her, and make clear that she’s the object of a desiring gaze that is obviously male—a gaze that is, at least in part, Sherlock’s. This gives the show a heterosexual object and tries to make Sherlock a heterosexual subject (that is, she’s the object that’s wanted, and he’s the subject who wants). I say “tries”: Sherlock looks at Irene, naked and clothed, intimately and not, but I see no sign that he ever takes erotic pleasure in it. I know what a sexual gaze looks like (like other women, I have to), and I see no sexuality here. For Sherlock, Irene is not the object of desire but the object of deduction: it’s not pleasure he takes from the looking, it’s knowledge. And of course knowledge is power. This is the project of “A Scandal in Belgravia”: to bring in Irene Adler, align her with Sherlock and his deductive power, and then disempower her by making her the erotic object and him the knowing subject. In other words, she’s the source of visual pleasure, and he’s the source of narrative power. 

The episode identifies Sherlock with Irene with a long series of jump-cuts, camera angles, framing, and plot devices. These audacious mirrorings and doublings link them in a complex exchange of power and knowledge. They are paired, and at first Irene’s on top, visually and in terms of her power to move the plot along by temporarily beating Sherlock at the information game. But in the end, he outsmarts her and wins. The upshot is fairly simple and very traditional: Irene = sexual female body, Sherlock = rational male mind, with sexuality less powerful than rationality. So much, so obvious. But the episode just works so damn hard to do this—why? I think it’s because to this point in the series, Sherlock, in his beauty, his visual centrality, and most of all in his relation to John, has presented an unusual model of masculinity, complicated and perhaps contradictory—and ever so queer. This episode tries to straighten that out; in the end, however, it doesn’t fully succeed.

The first glimpse we have of Irene is her hand on her phone, where she keeps all that dangerous information, and then her negligéed ass walking toward a certain royal female person.

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So this is Irene’s power at the start: information, and sexual agency. (To wit: information about sex.) In this she challenges Sherlock: in an early image we look at a photo of him in his fame and deductive power, and at her hand in its beauty and sensuality, covering up his face.

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“I’m going to get you,” that hand says. (Yep, it’s a gorgeous object—but note that hands are also symbols of selfhood and agency, for they are how we manipulate, use tools, and touch.)

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Visual Pleasure and Narrative Sherlock

professorfangirl:

(These are notes from a lecture I gave a year ago to an intro media class, part of an introduction to the concept of the cinematic gaze. We were working with the basic ideas from Laura Mulvey’s “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” specifically, that women are the erotic objects of the gaze in cinema, both of the audience and the characters on screen, and that men are the bearers of the gaze, owners of the pleasure, knowledge, and power it gives. Men look, women are looked at: the camera looks with the eyes of a het man, and the audience looks with the eyes of the camera. Sherlock turns out to be an interesting test case for these ideas. As both the object of the erotic gaze and the subject of the knowing one, he puts a spin on Mulvey’s model. Please note that people have critiqued and developed these ideas a whoooole lot since she wrote; again, this was an explanation and illustration of the basic questions. And I’m pretty sure mid0nz has made similar observations; check her metas for more.)

Part One: Watching the Detective

Like any detective story, Sherlock is all about looking: “you see, but you do not observe.” It’s all about the knowing gaze, the desiring gaze—the gaze that desires to know. Within the story, Sherlock’s the bearer of this observant look, and it’s his searching scrutiny that moves the narrative along. But the most frequent object of the viewer’s gaze isn’t the crime or the criminal, it’s Sherlock himself. The camera almost begs us to look at him, especially when he’s deducing. In “A Study in Pink,” Paul McGuigan uses a great many of the techniques that have traditionally been used to make women the object of visual pleasure in film to focus us on Sherlock and make us enjoy the view. The camera makes sure we take pleasure in looking at him.  He’s continually foregrounded, beautifully dressed and lit, looked at by others (mostly men) on screen, and sometimes just straight-up sexualized.

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As we see in the last image, McGuigan also cues us to look at him with others on screen. In one of his favorite framings, we look at Sherlock with John, over John’s shoulder. (John, like ACD’s narrator Watson, is our point of identification within the story, the mediator between us and Sherlock. We see—and love—Sherlock along with John.)

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zombikki:

cassaysbiteme:

Okay, but guys lets think about things a little bit, shall we?

Dean was still at the house when Nora arrived home at the end of the episode, She didn’t seem mad or put off by the whole ‘strange man in my house’ thing which means she had to come up with a logical explanation as to why Dean was there. I mean Cas kind of explains it, Dean knew how to bring the baby’s fever down, but he didn’t need to physically come to the house in order to tell that to Cas. 

SO, I propose, that after seeing Dean and Cas together there’s no way Nora wouldn’t have picked up on the ex-lover vibes they were giving off all episode. 

I think Nora thought Cas was gay, like right from the start. It would explain why she kissed him so casually and didn’t think anything of it and it would explain why she asked him in babysit in such a confusing way. She didn’t expect Cas to be interested in her so her wording was like she was speaking to someone who knew what she was talking about from experience – ‘it’s so hard to meet a good guy’. 

Seeing Dean and Cas together, even if they were acting like exes that were seeing each other again for the first time after the break up, their connection would’ve been obvious and just confirmed what she thought.

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GWEN COOPER META PLEEEASE, extra points if you discuss her role as torchwood’s coprotagonist!

burntlikethesun:

well tbh i would argue that gwen is the protagonist, much to the dismay of the anti_gwen_allies

like Rose, we see things very much through her eyes, and we discover the world of torchwood through her. despite us already being familiar with jack from S1 of DW, he is presented as a mystery to us in the first ep because we are going along with gwen and discovering things as she does.

i love gwen cooper so much. i like that she is the heart of the team, but she can still be selfish, manipulative, immature and make mistakes. i’m not a particular fan of the owen/adultery subplot (and because i saw S2 first it didn’t really influence my feelings towards gwen which were already solidly positive by the time i watched S1. and a large percentage of how much i love characters is down to how good their actor is and eve myles is fantastic and has a great range, so even if a character does shitty things i’ll still love them if it’s well played), but even that shows that she is fallible and human. for real, how many people would use a memory erasing pill if their partner found out they cheated on them? quite a lot i would say. you might not like it, but it’s realistic. i like that she’s allowed to be funny, actually properly funny, she cracks jokes and is generally a very positive person and can make light of a bad situation. i like that she’s allowed to be violent, that she can rock a huge bazooka, but still be a loving wife and mother and still care about people. she even has a little pair of protective ear muffs for when she’s shooting near anwen!

i like how she teaches the team, and jack in particular, to be less cold/methodical and think about the people they are affecting with their work. she makes them more human, but ironically as the show goes on she becomes more bitter and detached as the people she cares about are cruelly ripped away from her until it culminates in that scene in Miracle Day: 

Because you know what the worst thing is of all? Of all the shit we have seen, all the bloodshed, all the horror- do you know what is worse than all of that? I loved it. I bloody loved it. And I’d keep telling Rhys I was sorry, and I’d say to little Anwen I’m sorry. But I loved it so much.

I knew things no one else knew and, oh, I felt so special. And when we lost people, it was so so big. And I could say it was worth it. ‘Cause the bigger it was, the more important I was. And the more people we lost, the more that meant I was a survivor and I was better than them.

Asphodel and Wormwood: occupyvillengard: merindab: I love tumblr. I’m involved in a…

Asphodel and Wormwood: occupyvillengard: merindab: I love tumblr. I’m involved in a…

I love talking about the ‘old days’ of hunting. I think it’s a credit to the show that the concept is even possible. Also, as I’m slightly older then probable average tumblr user, I do actually remember at least the 80s and what life was like pre-internet. I think that’s part of why I like writing stories about young sam and dean; I am Dean’s age. Of course I’m missing 5 seasons of the show but at least I have the bones.

dvancecinco:

YES!  I think that the good old days would be fascinating.  And the fact that we get to travel in time and see things like Mary and John in their younger years.  I mean, Mary was a kick-ass hunter when she was younger; John was a former Marine.  Had they combined their skills and knowledge and taught their kids how to hunt in a safe, kind environment, who knows what would have happened to the boys. 

I also adore thinking about things like, life before the Internet, cell phones, etc.  I think it might be interesting for younger viewers watching seasons where the boys have to hang out at the library for an entire afternoon researching a small town.  They had to actually travel to the town in order to access their resources and then decide, yes there is a case, no there isn’t.  I bet a lot of trips were made that ended up in frustration.  

And I think we get a taste of this in probably the first three seasons the most; where we see the boys following closer to what was written in John’s journal.  I mean, they boys also talked about being left behind in certain areas for extended amounts of time.  John’s gotta drive probably 8 or so hours, spend a day or two doing research, spend a day with the local authorities, spend a day or two hunting, and then drive back.  Like, a legit hunting trip would have taken a week, minimum.  While he’s out there, it would be so much easier for him to have just gone “oh, I’m only 4 hours away from what could potentially be this other lead on Yellow Eyes and there’s some suspicious something-or-other happening only 2 hours east of here, so I’ll just hang out around these parts for a few more days and see what I can find out.”  What John saw as research for vengeance, the boys would have seen as potential abandonment.

The boys, comparatively, have it easy.  They have smart phones; so many cities and towns have online archives of their newspapers; they have Sam’s magical wifi capabilities.  They have the bunker.  They had Bobby and now Garth.  They had Ash.  

I think this is a fascinating subject.  I would love to know more, especially comparing the Campbell family and the Winchester family, traditional hunters versus Men of Letters.  I want to see how their styles would be.  Can we just have like history books?