John Scalzi on Ellen Ripley and the rise of strong female characters:
Yes, it’s a little perverse to note that success of a character template by pointing out examples of other filmmakers doing it badly. But on the other hand, it’s also nice to know that at this point in time, science fiction audiences not only don’t have a problem with strong, problem-solving lead female characters, they’ve come to expect them to be that way — and they know when such a character is being done badly.
I’m reminded of Cherie M. Priest’s earlier thoughts on the character — namely that what makes her special is that she isn’t special; “she’s just some woman who happens to be on board when the shit hits the fan.”
I’m also reminded of something I wrote back in October, when discussing this soon-afterwards-canceled Bionic Woman remake. I asked:
Can we please move past the idea that girl power, female empowerment, begins and ends with a girl who can kick somebody’s ass? This is what made Buffy the Vampire Slayer initially so intriguing: she was a victim who could turn the tables on her assailant, who was a reversal of the helpless cheerleader of so many bad horror movies. But even more important were Buffy’s mental and emotional strengths, which she often possessed because she was a woman, not in spite of the fact. To make a character strong or fast “for a girl” — which is what I’m afraid Bionic Woman is sometimes doing — is to sort of miss the point. The climactic fight scene between Michelle Ryan and Katee Sackhoff in the pilot episode, for instance, feels less like a clash between two strong and complex characters, and more like a rain-soaked cat-fight.
Now I love Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but there are fundamental limits to (as one commenter on Scalzi’s column calls it) the “HGWKKF,” or “Hot Girl Who Knows Kung Fu.” I think Buffy was always most interesting when it directly confronted those limits and dug deeper into the source of Buffy’s real strength — not just her ability to land a punch or spin a kick. Being the “chosen one” by itself isn’t all that interesting, after all; it has the potential to make you less powerful, not more — because you’re the agent of someone else’s power, someone else’s choice. Buffy was at its best when it acknowledged this fact, when it demonstrated that her true strength wasn’t bestowed from without, but rather came from within. (The third season episode “Helpless,” which as it happens I re-watched just this week, is a terrific example of this.)
And yet I think the type of female hero represented by Buffy — and by Ripley and Sarah Connor — remains unfortunately rare. There’s a handful of other examples in the comments to Scalzi’s column — I’d probably include Aeryn Sun on the list and, outside of genre, Veronica Mars — but by this point strong female characters should really be the norm.