It wasn't until yesterday that I realised what the problem was. I was thinking about the great performances that everyone gave, and I thought "Mila Kunis did really well considering the role she was given." The role she was given. And that's when it hit me; I've seen this film before. Over and over again. Peter Pan bloke doesn't want to grow up, spends time having fun with/getting stoned with his buddies, when in marches the wicked witch, his girlfriend/wife, and stomps all over his fun in her stilettos by trying to make him grow up and give up said buddies who are clearly such a bad influence on him. Cue scenes of intense hilarity, before a compromise is invariably reached; Peter Pan reluctantly hands over his bong (boo! hiss!) and the girlfriend/wife realises that she was being unreasonable (at last!) and that in fact she should realise how lucky she is to have her charming irresponsible loser rather than some boring stuffed shirt who could pay the bills and eventually support children. (yay!) Some sympathy is doled out to the girlfriend/wife in the form of a few weakly comic lines (awwww! she did a funny!) and she is invariably a complete stunner à la Mila Kunis or Katherine Heigl. If she were a decent size fourteen with a spot on her chin I imagine the audience response would be even less favourable.
Seth Macfarlane, comedy genius though he may be, has essentially just jumped aboard Judd Apatow's misogynist train. Ok, the best friend in this case is a talking Teddy Bear which is good for a few laughs, but substitute him for a glassy-eyed Seth Rogen and you would find the whole premise of the film wearily familiar. It seems there is nothing men love more than seeing themselves as fun-loving, whimsical individuals, who through love and respect for their demanding womenfolk, allow themselves to have all their spontaneity and creativity crushed out of them as they knuckle down to the daily, joyless grind that is the reality of life as a couple.
And when the defeated boyfriend finally does accept his lot and start taking responsibility for his life, it is never because he has finally realised that he is 35 and that is what normal adults do, it is because he doesn't want to lose the girl.
Hilarious.
I think Mr Apatow, Mr Macfarlane et al should grow up and take some responsibility as well. Responsibility for the relatively recent phenomenon of our society that is the Man Child. The Man Child simply refuses to grow up. Oh he likes the benefits that being a grown-up brings; being able to buy alcohol and cigarettes, being able to watch porn, have sex and drive cars, but he has no intention of doing any of the other things grown-ups do because it's boring. If he has a job it is merely to finance his fun; a salary to him is pocket money, A savings account is unheard of. He will move house rather than pay council tax and throw clothes away rather than wash them. He is proud that he doesn't know how to work an iron, and he lives on Chinese takeaway. He has not been to the dentist since his mother last took him when he was twelve and he turns his underpants inside out so that he can wear them again. He plays video games until two o clock in the morning, but doesn't have time to mend a door handle. He doesn't vote, not because he doesn't care about politics, but because he has never bothered to register. His credit rating is in tatters, and yet when he is refused a loan he is outraged, and blames the fascist system. The Man Child is in his twenties, thirties, forties or fifties, yet still thinks he has plenty of time left to grow up and settle down.
The Man Child can be found everywhere, in every strata of society, and on screen he is celebrated, fêted, held up as a shining example of the strength of the human spirit. And woe betide the poor woman who dares to try to change him. She may be standing there wearing Prada, all dewy eyed and wobbly lipped, but in his mind's eye every Man Child sees a massive be-aproned woman called Doris, with arms like tree trunks and a wart with hair in, gimlet eyed, slowly, menacingly thumping her red, meaty palm with a hefty rolling pin.
Of course Judd and Seth didn't create this cliché. It's been around for years, in cartoons and film. Think of any of the Carry-On films, or the cringing Howard in The Last of the Summer Wine. What they are doing is excusing it. The awful thing is, I love their films. Knocked Up, Pineapple Express, The 40 Year Old Virgin, and now Ted. And I have caught myself recently, when I have been making a perfectly reasonable request for the eleventh time to my other half, suddenly thinking "My God, I'm a Nag." I am clearly becoming indoctrinated. It is unacceptable.
We women don't help ourselves, of course. We spoil our sons and make excuses for our boyfriends. We hoover under them and wipe up after them. We remember their mother's birthdays and sign the card on their behalf. And we like nothing better than meeting up with our girlfriends for a good session of 'my man's more useless than yours." All of which helps to perpetuate the endless stereotype.
You may not believe it, having just read this rant, but I'm not a feminist. I think that women have their faults just as much as men, and I think that, despite their faults, men are great. My boyfriend is the best thing to ever have happened to me. BUT it really gets my goat when I see women being portrayed as the villain of the piece simply for being sensible and responsible, and I, for one, refuse to Grin and Bear It.
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