"Waitress"

I’ve had “Waitress” on my Netflix queue for some time, but because I’ve been lazy I just got around to watching it today. I was expecting a frothy little flick – it got good reviews, Keri Russell was said to be good in it and my man Andy Griffith had a small role. Maybe it was because of my medium-low expectations, but I was kind of blown away. It’s a wonderful movie. But that’s not really what I wanted to say about it.

“Waitress” was one of a handful of movies released in 2007 whose plots centered on a woman with an unplanned pregnancy. “Knocked Up” and “Juno” got all the publicity, and “Juno” got all the awards, but in my opinion “Waitress” is superior to both of them. At the time, there was a lot of blogging and Web writing analyzing why supposedly lib'rul Hollywood would churn out so many films with a “pro-life” plot – women who barely consider the option of getting an abortion (if they do so at all). I think that misses the point on multiple levels. First of all, let’s just drop “Knocked Up” from the discussion altogether, since that film’s pregnancy was really only a device for that man-child twit Judd Apatow to explore the process of a man’s maturation. Honestly, watching that movie, I wondered if Apatow had ever encountered a single woman...seriously, like ever. And Juno does initially plan abortion, deciding later that she’d rather give her baby up for adoption. Neither plot bothers me, either as a feminist or as a screenwriter. For one thing, in both cases no pregnancy = no plot. For another, if I’m going to be pro-choice, then I have to accept that women have….wait for it…..choices.

How anyone could think that “Waitress” is anti-feminist right-wing propaganda is beyond me. You have a character (Russell) whose abusive husband takes her tip money, won’t let her have a car and who makes her swear that she won’t love the baby more than him. Jenna is a neon-flashing-sign depiction of the ways that traditional marriage and family roles trap too many women in this country. Unlike the Betty Friedan-in-The Feminine Mystique priveliged types we see so often in movies, who cheat on their husbands because they’re just so goshdarn booooooored, Jenna’s husband might actually kill her someday. (SPOILER ALERT) It’s her baby that gives her the strength and perspective to kick him once and for all and to strike out on her own. (The film doesn’t get into the post-leaving drama too much, other than showing us how a-hole hubby refuses to pay Jenna’s hospital bill. No restraining orders, shelters, draining divorce/custody battle…Maybe the jerk spontaneously combusted or something.)

I have this weird thing where I like to go back and read reviews after I’ve seen a film, and in one of them I noticed a reference to “the late” writer-director Adrienne Shelly (who also appears as Jenna’s friend Dawn). Not long before “Waitress” played at Sundance, a construction worker murdered Shelly in her office. I had no idea. When I read that, I felt all the emotions one feels when you learn about the death of someone you didn’t know, plus added anger that this writer-director that I’d just gotten all excited about wouldn’t be making anymore films. And I couldn’t help feeling an added sense of futility knowing that this filmmaker who’d so beautifully explored a dimension of patriarchal violence toward women was herself a victim of that violence. It just pisses me off.

Shelly’s family established a foundation that supports the work of other female writers and filmmakers – a brilliant tribute, I think. I felt a little better after learning that Shelly’s family turned a horrifying tragedy into an opportunity to advance other women. “Waitress” reaffirmed for me that we need more female filmmakers out there telling our stories. (‘Cause Judd Apatow sure as hell isn’t going to do it.)

And by the way, I LOVED Andy Griffith. All the acting was lovely, but he just makes the movie.