No More Damsels

DC figured out how to give a love interest a solid, active story line — now can they afford the women they write the same courtesy?

Despite my initial skepticism at one of my feminist roles models having her first film written by a group of men, I walked out of the theatre after seeing Wonder Woman feeling largely satisfied that the team had done her relative justice: not only was this a good movie about a female superhero, it was just a good superhero movie period. Not to say that the glass ceiling has been completely shattered by the success of this one film — because well, frankly, there were still quite a few representation problems, if we’re looking at this movie critically — but in the aftermath of an election that was so traumatizing for women in particular, it feels a little bit like the, “Told you so” we all needed.

There are lots of parts of the film that were particularly moving and thrilling, not the least of which is Diana’s journey across No Man’s Land which, yes, like many other women, reduced me to unexpected tears. Most notably for me, the writers did a particularly wonderful job of giving this story the humor that D.C. movies and comics tend to be missing: each of the characters was allowed their own bit of fun throughout the film, making them infinitely more human and endearing, a factor that Marvel has always seemed to have a better understanding of. (Side note: this is the precise reason I have never cared about the Dark Night movies or honestly really Batman at all; everything is way too serious all the time.)

But one thing the minds behind this movie really did well was the creation of Diana’s love interest, Steve Trevor, co-star of one of my favorite Wonder Woman panels:

In much the same way I’ve always felt about Steve Trevor in the Wonder Woman comics I’ve read, the romance between him and Diana seems a little unnecessary — it feels, especially in the context of the 2017 movie that the romance story line itself is there because DC is afraid to test the waters of a romance-free superhero movie. Regardless, Chris Pine’s interpretation of Steve is charming, smart, and just a little bit rougeish, and his chemistry with Gal Gadot in the film is lovely to watch. That scene when they sleep next to each other on the boat is just the right combination of sweet and awkward and really worked to endear their flirtation.

But more than that, this film worked to make Steve more than just a plot device, the way love interests often are in superhero films in particular. Though his death does eventually become the impetus for Diana to activate her god powers (the part of the film that, frankly, sat the least well with me), the writers did an excellent job at giving Steve his own active story line: his intense desire to work as best he could to help end the war — his talk about why he even got involved — all of his details added up as very accurate justification for why he makes the decision to sacrifice himself in the end and doesn’t feel out of place.

Even from the very beginning, they set him up to be a cut above the rest of the love interests because they allow him to tell his story in a flashback. This cements him as a character standing on his own two feet, with blood pumping through his veins. We automatically connect with him more because we’ve actually been privy to the journey he’s been on before the story began, much like watching Diana grow up and want so desperately to train.

It must be said that certainly this courtesy is afforded to him because he is a man, written by men, directed by a woman who, of course, has been taught from a young age to empathize with men. It really shouldn’t be that shocking that this male love interest is so well written — not a damsel, though Diana saves him on multiple occasions; and not one-dimensionally domineering, though he often thinks he knows best. He himself is given space to grow within the film, and it serves the film itself in the end because he is a reflection of real humanity instead of a cardboard cutout designed to alternatively torture and comfort our hero.

But regardless of why this film was able to create such a good love interest, the fact remains that they did it, which is something I’ve never felt particularly compelled to say about any other superhero movie, either DC or Marvel. All those women have always fallen short of feeling particularly human to me, even the ones who I identified with, like Gwen Stacy, or the ones who were heroes themselves, like Black Widow. Even when given actions, they’ve all still felt like Strong Female Characters or Alternative Manic Pixie Dream Girls, like the writers are trying but they still perhaps have never actually talked at length to a Real Human Woman.

So here’s to hoping that DC can learn from the success of Steve Trevor: if anything, you all have a structure now to build a love interest that works — one that has her own hopes, dreams, past, one that strives, one that fears, one that exists in the world for more than the viewing pleasure of the hero or the audience, regardless of whether she’s Steve Trevor or Lois Lane.