We went to see The Dark Knight Rises yesterday. I’d like to rant on and on about violent white men protecting mostly children and one woman I think from other violent white men. Also, I’d like to rant about how there really are nice rich men — really — and gawd if poor people ever get control over anything there’ll be hell to pay, French-Revolution-style hell with a dash of New York city winter thrown in, if you get my ham-handed drift. And to this noxious, witchy brew, I’d add isn’t it nice that we have the ocean to dump all our shit in because really, it’s just a holding tank for the violent white men’s nasty products. And — alas — Aurora.
But no. I’ll stick to ranting about Catwoman’s ass and why it is that she has to ride Batman’s oh-so-butch motorcycle with her ample assets thrust into the air as if she were a Bonobo-presenting primate waiting for some action. Mind you — I’m not complaining about the sight of Anne Hathaway’s leather-clad buttocks, which were to my thinking nearly worth the godawful cost of the IMAX showing we mistakenly went to.
But the contrast between how Batman rides his motorcycle and how Catwoman rides the same bike was pretty stunning. Like it’s not hot enough to have Catwoman — in leather pretty much head to toe — riding the motorcyle like a normal super-hero? Seriously, you have to have her thrusting her ass skyward? Can’t women engage with technology in any other way than this?
Rhetorical question. I was in Rome last month where I saw many many very hot (both literally and figuratively) Italian women on motorcycles. So I know for a fact that this kind of exaggeration is completely over the top and unnecessary.
See for yourself.
But it’s just a movie, right? It’s a fantasy. Well, if it’s just a fantasy, why can’t we have some goddamned fantasies in which women don’t appear either as vengeful terrorists bitches who must be eradicated or hackneyed videogame fantasies in need of redemption?