Woman of the Month: Xiao Qiao and Sun Shangxiang

Xiao Qiao and Sun Shangxiang from Red Cliff

You can usually be assured of one – but only one – decent female character in a historical epic, but anything more than that (agency, a relationship with another woman, an important part to play in the action, passing the Bechdel Test) is less of a guarantee. So, when a film gives you more than the bare minimum, it’s a cause for celebration. Say for example, two female characters.

But you know what writers and audiences love? Putting women in binary roles, and then pitting them against each other. The good girl and the bad girl, the Madonna and the Whore, Dark or Light Feminine, feathers or flowers, Maidens and Crones. Usually if there are two women in a male-dominated story, they’ll be bland BFFs (Cecelia and Blanka), bitter rivals (Morgana and Guinevere) or have nothing whatsoever to do with each other (Rowena and Rebecca). Complex dynamics are completely out of the question.

Where am I going with all this? Xiao Qiao and Sun Shangxiang of Red Cliff manage to avoid many of the pitfalls of the gendered archetypes mentioned above, even as they embody others. Together, they very much form the two halves of the Tomboy and Girly Girl binary. Xiao is demure, feminine, soft-spoken and elegant, who is renowned for her tea-making skills and functions as a nurse during the war effort. In stark contrast, Shangxiang is argumentative, outspoken, determined and sometimes downright rude, who is an active participant in the combat that the entire film revolves around.

But the most important thing about both their characterizations is that neither depiction of womanhood is held up as superior to the other. Let’s be honest, modern audiences tend to prefer the scrappy tomboy to the prim little madame (say, Arya and Sansa) though in the times in which these stories are set, it would have been the Proper Lady who would have garnered the most respect. But in this case, Xiao and Shangxiang are portrayed as equals.

That in itself is worthy of commentary, but what fascinates me even more is that this balance is reflected in the structure of the film itself. In part one of the story, Xiao is positioned as the impetus for the war (Cao Cao’s lust for her is his primary motivation), but it is Shangxiang’s arrow which draws first blood from the invading enemy forces. In part two, both women play a crucial role in the final victory: Shangxiang’s undercover reconnaissance provides essential intel regarding Cao Cao’s forces, while the film’s emotional climax sees Xiao on a mission of her own, walking into enemy territory with the goal of distracting Cao Cao long enough for the wind to change and her husband's plan to work.

Basically, Shangxiang is Mulan (with a small dose of Éowyn when she finds out the hard way that war is not as glorious as she imagines it) while Xiao reminds me a little of Elinor from Brave, especially since Red Cliff finds a way to weaponize tea-making in the same way that embroidery was the key to breaking the spell over Elinor in Brave. It’s not just Xiao’s beauty, but her feminine skill with a brew that successfully stalls Cao Cao at a critical moment.

Between them, these women essentially begin and end the war. They are counterweights to each other across the film’s two halves, and the pivot is the scene – the only scene – in which they interact with each other. As it happens, it’s a warm and affectionate one, in which Shangxiang asks for assistance in removing her garments, and Xiao tries to protect her friend’s modesty by silently warning the men to turn around.

[Context: Shangxiang has concealed the large map of Cao Cao’s encampment underneath her armour, wrapped around her body, and is too excited to share what she’s learned to wait for any privacy].

That’s all we get from them, but somehow it’s enough – an interaction between two women that manages to be close and intimate despite occurring in a room full of men.

Neither woman could do what the other one does. Furthermore, no man could do what either of these women achieve (that goes without saying when it comes to Xiao, but the reason Cao’s men are so easily drawn into Zhuge Liang’s trap after Shangxiang fires her arrow is explicitly because the soldiers refuse to be intimidated by a girl). One is not braver than the other, for both walk knowingly into the enemy camp, albeit in profoundly different ways, and emerge victorious. 

They are more than the archetypes they embody, for their opposing feminine energy makes them perfect foils to each other, and are intrinsic elements to the plot itself. Best of all, they’re not rivals but friends – this is made very clear, even if we only catch a glimpse.

Reading/Watching Log #100

It was historical epic movie month at my place. I don’t talk about this genre often, but I love a good historical epic, provided they capture the essential balance: deeply personal stakes set against a grand backdrop of historical import. Too many don’t realize that this is the secret ingredient, and it’s easy to pinpoint the great epics from the lesser ones based on this criteria.

The Woman King revolved around the relationship between a mother and her daughter. Arn has the love story between its leads. Red Cliff went for the genuine camaraderie between the allied forces. The emotional stakes of Gladiator were spread a little thin, with Maximus’s bond with his dead family, Lucilla, Caesar Aurelius and his fellow gladiators all vying for space, but the culminative effect does the job. Kingdom of Heaven... has none. I’ll have more to say below the cut.

If it looks like I managed to watch a lot of television this month, it’s more accurate to say I finished a lot of television this month. I started the third season of Elementary back in January (it went on hiatus for my three-weeks leave) and I’ve been watching one episode of The Gilded Age per week with mum since last year. It all just happened to conclude in March.

And I am slowly but surely plugging away at my stack of library books. Once they’re done I’m going to be concentrating on my own damn books for a change.

Oh, and look at that – this is my one-hundredth reading/watching log! I probably should have done something special to commemorate the occasion. Probably.

Links and Updates

I know it’s been quiet on this blog for a while, but I really am trying to pull together my Twelve Best Scenes for 2023! Until then, let’s discuss the fact there’s been an insane amount of trailers for blockbuster material released in the last couple of weeks, including from the Big Three Franchises (Game of Thrones, Star Wars, MCU).

Let’s take a look...

Woman of the Month: Queen Margrete

Queen Margrete from Margrete: Queen of the North

Three months into 2024 and I’m already struggling to fill these posts. But luckily, I watched this film just last night and Queen Margrete more than met the qualifications for a worthy Woman of the Month.

There are plenty of stories out there concerning women who have to chose between their careers/personal ambition and their families/pursuit of love, but seldom has that conflict been placed in the context of a 14th century queen who rules subtly but firmly behind her adopted son, King Erik, and has worked her entire life to form a lasting peace between Denmark, Sweden and Norway.

Now at age fifty, her life’s ambition is about to come to fruition, with leaders of all three countries pledging support for the Kalmar Union. I honestly can’t think of another film that revolves around a woman of her age and power, in a (relatively speaking) accurate historical setting, grappling with a moral crisis like the one presented here. Because just as the treaty is to be consolidated, a young man returns to court, claiming to be Margrete’s long-dead son Oluf.

If true, this would make him heir to the Danish throne, and a threat to Margrete’s life’s work.

Should she act as a mother or as a queen? Emotional complexity is derived from the fact that after fifteen years, she barely recognizes the man claiming to be her son, and has since replaced him in her heart with her great-nephew Erik, who is himself starting to act on the resentment he’s long harboured against her for uprooting him from his childhood to become her heir, not to mention the power she still holds over the court.

Trine Dyrholm delivers a fantastic performance as Margrete: she’s authoritative but not overbearing; unsentimental but not cruel. Poised, self-contained, shrewd and charismatic, she walks and talks like a queen, yet interestingly, never comes across as ruthless despite what she’s called upon to do. She is a mother, but she is also a leader, and the struggle to balance the two states never ends.

Thankfully, she’s spared any anachronistic “girl power” moments in which she vents her frustration at the oppressive nature of the patriarchy – instead, the film shows us how she has to tread carefully so as to not emasculate her adopted son, to continually stroke the egos of the men that surround her, and to never come across as too weak or emotional during the public trial of her supposed son. The difficulties of being a woman in a man’s world is apparent in every scene she moves through, and it’s all demonstrated without being commented upon.

When she makes her final choice, it’s to protect her true child – not Oluf, not Erik, but the Kalmar Union. But there’s nothing triumphant or “yaas queen!” about it. The last words her son speaks to her are: “you weren’t strong enough,” to which she replies: “no, I was too strong.” Despite the conflict and regret in her heart, she’s uncompromising, and the film makes sure we’re aware of the aftermath: that the Kalmar Union lasted over one hundred years, and that the bond between the three countries that lasts to this day can be largely attributed to Queen Margrete.

But like a lot of rulers, she (or at least this fictionalized account of her) had to pay a bitter price for it.

Reading/Watching Log #99

I had three weeks off and tried to stuff them with as many books, shows and activities as possible, though I’m not entirely sure I succeeded. That is, I didn’t get as much reading done as I wanted to. Look, I even brought out all the books I own written by my favourite authors and took a not-very-good picture of them:

Yeah, it was wishful thinking that I was going to get through all THIS in three weeks, especially on top of all the activities I had planned (I may have to do a separate post on what passes for a wild time in my life – it involved train rides, wandering around the city, various forms of street food, catching up with friends and buying expensive boots, then feeling guilty about it).

The break also gave me the chance to catch up on some shows that I’ve been meaning to watch for a while now – even though all of them have since been cancelled, or are approaching cancellation. Nancy Drew has already aired its fourth and final season (I’ve just finished the third), The Great ended after its third season (there was room for more, but thankfully it went out on a fairly conclusive note), Perry Mason was unfairly cancelled after only two seasons, and Evil is finishing after its not-yet-aired fourth and final season. All goods things come to an end, I suppose, and aside from Perry Mason, they got a better run than most these days.

This month I also read a book called The Lost Kingdom of Lantia by Maggie Hamilton, which I haven’t included here since I want to do a blogpost for it on its own. It was one of my absolute favourites as a preteen, so I’m taking the opportunity to do a deep-dive.

Recommendations: The Best of 2023

2023 was a year of change for me, what with a move from working at my local library to a larger, further-away one, but I surprised myself by eventually realizing that I’ve enjoyed the switch. There are younger families and more children there, and far less elderly folk who consider you a repository for their endless complaining (of course, there’s also more swaggering little shits who roll their eyes at you when you point out that a library is not a good venue for their shouting/wrestling/posturing matches).

Working full-time means less time for writing, as you can see by the stats in the right-hand column of the page. This is the lowest number of posts I’ve written in any year since starting this blog in 2014, so thanks to all of you who have kept reading and commenting over the last decade. I write this blog mainly for my own enjoyment, but it’s always gratifying to get comments and feedback.

This was also the year I met my nephew for the first time, and even as I write this, my sister is in hospital giving birth to her second child, my niece. Or at least, she’s trying to. The baby isn’t particularly interested in joining us any time soon, so my sister has been put into induced labour – and that’s still not working, so keep her struggle in your thoughts as you peruse this list of my personal recommendations for 2023.

I ended up reading a lot of children’s books this year, partly because it’s my job and partly because they take less time to get through than the massive fantasy doorstoppers that never reach an actual conclusion. I also ploughed through my Slavic Fantasy reading list, which is still an ongoing project, though I’ve only got eight more books to go. I’ll be very relived once all that’s under my belt. 

For the second year in a row I didn’t get the chance to write up any meta, probably because my episode reviews for the third season of His Dark Materials and the second season of Legend of the Seeker took up a lot of free time. Xena Warrior Princess, not so much, as I wrote out those reviews for a message board years ago... but it’s been so long since I watched the episodes that I no longer recall the context of a lot of what I’ve written. Which means a rewatch is in order, which takes up even more time.

I did manage an in-depth look at the prematurely cancelled second season of Shadow and Bone, and two more playthroughs for games in the King’s Quest series: Romancing the Throne and To Heir is Human. Hopefully I’ll get to The Perils of Rosella during my break, which is a big deal in computer gaming history.

Below are the books, films and television shows I enjoyed most this year, and it’s interesting to compare this to my lists of 2021 and 2022 in order to see what medium I favoured. It was an incredible year for children’s graphic novels (books like Wingbearer, Cat’s Cradle and Lightfall are only omitted because they’re not completed yet) but not so much for television (probably because I spent a lot of time watching enjoyable but hardly must-see long runners such as Spooks and Sailor Moon).

By the time you’ve read through it, hopefully another little member of the human race will have joined us in the world.

Woman of the Month: Toph Beifong

Toph from Avatar the Last Airbender

Netflix’s live-action adaptation of Avatar the Last Airbender is imminent... which makes this the perfect time to go back and watch the original animated show instead.

Besides the compelling plot and beautifully realized world, the show offered a range of lovable, three-dimensional characters – many of which were women (or girls). In fact, it’s an absolute buffet of fascinating female characters, from the ostensible lead Katara, to the terrifying villain Azula, to the supporting cast of Suki, Ty Lee and Mai. Even minor characters like Ursa or Kyoshi or Aunt Wu are brimming with life and vitality.  

Which meant I was rather torn on who to pick for this entry, especially since Katara is so woefully (or wilfully) misunderstood by vast swaths of the fandom... but there’s no denying there’s something special about Toph. Simply put: there are very few female characters like her.

In fact, she leaves such an indelible mark on the story as a whole that it’s almost a shock to recall she’s only in two-thirds of the show’s episodes; not appearing in the first season at all. Not only that, but she was initially conceived as a very different sort of character. Remember the introductory sequence that showcases the four types of elemental bending? Water is Pakku, fire is Azula, air is Aang, and earth is... some guy. Well, that was Toph’s original design before Aaron Ehasz pitched the idea that the Avatar’s earth-bending teacher might work better (or be more interesting) as a girl. And the rest is history.

Toph is first glimpsed in a vision Aang has while traversing the swamplands, which depicts her as petite, elusive, and finely dressed. When we eventually see her in the flesh, it’s in quite a different context: as a contestant in a pro-bending tournament where she effortlessly takes out fighters that are twice her size. And there’s room for one more surprise: she’s known as the Blind Bandit on account of the fact that she literally can’t see.

Aang knows she’s destined to be his earth-bending teacher, as someone who can “listen to the earth” and moves with immense control and grace. Toph, however, is reticent – not least because she’s living a double-life. It turns out she’s the only daughter of the Beifong family, and because she’s been blind since birth, her parents are convinced she’s a helpless and delicate invalid. Her earth-bending she learnt in secret from the badger-moles; her talents have been kept completely hidden from her parents.

It's only when Aang is taken captive that Toph is spurred to action, prevailing over an entire team of pro-bending wrestlers single-handedly. She runs away from home to join Team Avatar, and for the first time in her life – she’s free.

Of course, there are some growing pains when it comes to integrating herself with the others. She is, after all, a poor little rich girl with something to prove. This means she’s going to look after herself – and ONLY herself, foregoing any communal chores (that she probably doesn’t know how to do anyway) and tending to her own needs. Naturally she clashes with Katara, and when it comes to train Aang in the art of earth-bending, she’s not exactly a wise and patient teacher. Her mentality is one of tough love, and she’s going to throw as many rocks at her pupil as can until he learns to stand up for himself.

There’s also the issue of her father sending a couple of bounty hunters after her, convinced that she’s been kidnapped. They manage to track her down and separate her from her friends, but in her time of utmost need, she concentrates on the metal enclosure surrounding her, honing in on its natural ores and shaping them to her will. Girl just invented metal-bending.

Toph is just one greatest hit after another: storming the Earth King’s palace, taking on the entire Dai Li, holding up a building as it’s sinking into sand, dismantling a Fire Nation airship mid-flight, and my personal favourite: the full body metal shield. I’m going to have to post the scene here because it’s Just. So. Cool. 

Along with poking fun at her own blindness (though she’s so capable that her friends can forget it’s even a thing) and being the only one emotionally removed enough to point out that Zuko is Aang’s best chance at getting a suitable fire-bending teacher, she’s also a pretty great shit-talker. For all the show’s brilliance before she turned up, it’s her introduction that really makes you feel that the secret ingredient, the elusive X-factor, the je ne sais quoi, has ARRIVED.

There’s even some fun gender commentary at work, from the discrepancy between her diminutive appearance and awesome strength, to her frank enjoyment of gross-out jokes. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a female character prank her friends with fake armpit hair before or since Toph did it.

She even gets the last line of dialogue in the show (“well, I think you all look perfect!”) though the comic books and sequel series The Legend of Korra explore what happened to her in the years to come. Toph eventually opens an academy in order to pass on her skills in metal-bending to others, before – rather controversially – pursuing a career in law enforcement after ennui sets in. A cop... really?

Much of her adult life is still something of a mystery, having given birth to two daughters with different fathers (maybe the upcoming animated films will shed more light on things) but as an old woman she’s living as a hermit in the swamplands. She’s as crotchety and sharp-tongued as you’d expect, and yet she’s clearly grown in wisdom and compassion – traits she no doubt picked up from Aang. Helping restore Korra to full strength and rescue her family from Kuvira’s captivity is her grand swansong, and she departs the show with the words: “at some point you got to leave it to the kids.”

I could write more about her, but this entry is already long enough. In summation, Toph Beifong is a force of nature, a prodigy, a mould-breaker, and in her later years, something of an enigma. She was one of the most remarkable aspects of what was already a remarkable show: a girl from a sheltered background who is nothing like anyone expects; someone who has raised herself up from profound vulnerability and made her disability her greatest strength.

Her impact cannot be understated, which means one of my favourite scenes in the whole show is when Aang is fighting Lord Ozai in the grand finale, and for a moment we see the world in “Toph vision” – that is, the visual representation of how she uses her feet to feel seismic vibrations in the earth. It gives Aang the upper hand in the fight – making Toph instrumental in defeating Ozai when she’s not even there.