Tag Archives: Wonder Woman

The past isn’t a foreign country in ‘Wonder Woman’

Everybody seems to love the new Wonder Woman movie.  There’s quite a bit that I like about it myself, especially the depiction of Diana’s personality.  And it’s nice to see a DC movie where the atmosphere isn’t so gloomy—the literal, physical atmosphere as well as the mood, I mean.  

One thing that irks me, though, is the movie’s sense of history.  It doesn’t have one.

Gal Gadot and Chris Pine, the stars of ‘Wonder Woman,’ at the 2016 San Diego Comic Con. By Gage Skidmore from Peoria, AZ, United States of America (Gal Gadot & Chris Pine) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Wonder Woman made her comics debut in 1941, a couple of months before America’s entry into World War II.  But the movie takes place near the end of the First World War, with strategists and politicians on both sides expecting an imminent armistice.  When Steve Trevor crashes into the waters off Themyscira, he’s fleeing the kaiser’s men rather than the Führer’s.  I’m not sure why the filmmakers opted for a WWI origin; maybe they wanted to distinguish their movie from Captain America: The First Avenger.

A couple of decades may not seem like a big shift, but there’s a world of difference between 1918 and 1941.  Any time traveler from 2017 would experience much more profound culture shock in the WWI era than the WWII one.  I’m not just referring to the external conditions of people’s lives, like technology and clothing, but also to the internal conditions: the ways that people of different classes, genders, and other categories conceived of themselves and related to one another.

The 1910s were much less recognizably modern than the 1940s, and much more “foreign” from the standpoint of the present day.  There’s little sense of this “foreignness” in Wonder Woman other than the hairstyles and costumes.  For a movie set a century ago, it’s notably ahistorical.  This is especially true of Steve Trevor himself.  None of his dialogue or his characterization would be inappropriate for an airman/intelligence officer of WWII.  For that matter, none of it would be out of place for a man of our own time.  

It’s interesting to contrast Wonder Woman‘s Trevor with the characters in another movie released this year, The Lost City of Z.  Portions of that film take place during WWI; in fact, both Wonder Woman and Lost City have battle sequences in which troops go over the top and into the hellscape of no man’s land.  But while Trevor is more or less interchangeable with a twenty-first-century American, Lost City‘s Percy Fawcett is very much a man of his time and class.  Indeed, the mores of the Edwardian British upper class figure in Lost City‘s plot.  Fawcett’s questionable family background hampers his advancement. It’s the story of a time and place when pedigree mattered a great deal.  Its characters’ attitudes and outlooks are distinct from our own.  Wonder Woman‘s Steve Trevor, by contrast, could be your next-door neighbor.

What’s especially curious is that the makers of Wonder Woman seem pretty uninterested in exploiting their period’s special relevance to everything that makes their title character singular.  Wonder Woman posed quite a challenge to prevailing attitudes about femininity in 1941, but imagine what a radical figure she would’ve been in 1918, before the ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment.  You’d think a movie about a superhuman warrior woman that takes place in an era when women’s lives were so circumscribed would milk that fact for all it’s worth.  But the film’s engagement with 1910s gender norms is surprisingly light.  There’s a passing reference to women’s suffrage, an amusing scene in which Diana tries on a corset and underskirt for the first time, and another in which her presence inside an all-male conference room causes an uproar.  That’s about it.  I’m not trying to argue that the filmmakers should have concentrated more on Diana’s challenge to 1918 gender norms.  I just find it surprising that they didn’t engage that angle more, given their choice to set the story in the 1910s rather than the 1940s or 2010s.

I’m well aware that critiquing this movie on the basis of its historical sensibility is somewhat beside the point.  It isn’t really a “historical” film in the same sense that The Lost City of Z is.  Nobody goes to Wonder Woman to immerse themselves in the 1910s.  The filmmakers’ only real duties were to be true to the central character and to tell a good story.  But the notion of the past as a foreign country is a favorite theme of mine, so I get miffed when filmmakers and storytellers assume that people have always been more or less like us.  Some of Wonder Woman‘s most enjoyable moments are the ones in which Diana finds herself a fish out of water in a world of men.  But if any of us found ourselves in WWI-era Europe, we’d likely feel out of place, too.

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Filed under History and Memory

“Great Hera!” Historians’ unexpected projects

The prolific and talented Jill Lepore has anew book coming out on…the history of Wonder Woman.  Needless to say, it’s a bit of a departure; Lepore usually writes about early America.  It’s quite a long way from colonial New England to Themyscira.

But it also looks like a great read.  Wonder Woman has a fascinating origin story.  I don’t mean “origin story” in the sense that the phrase is generally used when referring to comics characters (although that story is pretty interesting, too).  Instead, I mean the story of how William Moulton Marston—psychologist, inventor of the polygraph, feminist, and polyamorist—developed a superheroine to be a model for what he called “the new type of woman who should, I believe, rule the world.”

You can’t help but wonder how an early Americanist decides to switch gears and write an entire book on a comic character.  Most historians’ bibliographies seem to develop in an organic fashion, with obvious connections between one project and the next, but sometimes something unexpected will pop up.  I find these occasional departures fascinating, and I love to read interviews with authors who talk about their decisions to pursue subjects that are totally different from their usual fare.

One of the historians included on the syllabus of a Civil War seminar I once took wrote a biography of John Lennon, although now I can’t remember the guy’s name.  And one of my undergrad professors at LMU, the Civil War historian Earl Hess, co-wrote a book about the film Singin’ in the Rain as well as a book about another Gene Kelly musical.  Nathaniel Philbrick is best known as a maritime and New England historian, but he also published a book about Little Bighorn.

I find these unexpected projects encouraging, because ever since I was a kid I’ve wanted to write dinosaur-related books.  One of my dreams is to do something on the history of paleontology.  I think I’ve mentioned before that when I had to pick a topic for a major research paper in my undergraduate methodology class, I wrote about the rivalry between two Gilded Age paleontologists.  Actually, if I’d thought more about it, I probably would’ve specialized in the history of science in grad school and written a dino-related thesis instead of a study on memory and the Rev War, but I’ve had so much fun with King’s Mountain that I can’t complain.

Anyway, if Jill Lepore can study both colonists and Wonder Woman, maybe someday I can juggle backcountry revolutionaries and nineteenth-century dinosaur hunters.  It might make for an unusual CV, but it would be a heck of a lot of fun.

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Filed under Historiography