Damsels in Distress, or: Shaping your own private realm

Damsels in Distress (2012)

Directed by Whit Stillman

***SPOILERS***

Whit Stillman’s films are full of people (mostly young) pushing back against the ever-suffocating realm of pop culture and societal influence—the public realm. And within their tightened network of friends, they often create their own detached society—the private realm. What’s ironic—and on magnificent display in Damsels in Distress—is these up-and-coming faux-intellectuals often mimic societal norms and regurgitate common sentiments from the public realm, despite their gumption to shield it. In doing so, Stillman owns the unique trait of creating a world that is entirely his own. And not in the distinct and completely fucking obvious way Wes Anderson does it. Of course the quirks and sly comments seem out of tune with the real world and have lent Stillman’s films their own unique identity, but, in all honesty, the worlds Stilman creates are more comparable to a Sci-Fi film than your average Wes Anderson trip through eccentricity. Despite the clear bounding presence of outside influence, the action in a Stillman film is entirely contained in the private realm. It’s then no surprise that Stillman’s films aren’t necessarily dominated by drama like an Anderson film, but instead group politics.

Stillman has utilized various methods in his small filmography to cover such a trait, but it’s how much the public realm creeps into the private realm that ultimately divides his films into two camps. On one side we have Barcelona and Last Days of Disco, where the public realm is physically regarded and becomes the center of conversation. While discussing the vast presence of disco and its influence on their current fad of a lifestyle, the characters’ trajectory in Disco are clearly shaped and guided by disco’s spiraling disappearance and irrelevance. In Barcelona, the impending doom of public realm politics presses down on the characters, eventually even leading to the shooting of one of its characters.

And then we’ve got Metropolitan, which was Stillman’s first feature and still his best use of the private realm. While owning some of the same characteristics of Disco—as characters from both films constantly speak of the public realm in an effort to keep up with it—there isn’t a larger singular cultural movement guiding the characters’ actions. Instead, the topic of literature dominates, and as debates about Jane Austen novels arise, these characters often (despite their lack of knowledge in doing so) mimic the very subjects of controversy they regurgitate. In essence, the presence of literature represents the same brooding presence as either disco or world politics, but instead of the public realm dictating a character’s trajectory, these kids are able to take the influence and shape it on their own, creating their own world—or novel, if you will—that is entirely dependent on the private realm’s mimicking of the public realm.

The latter category is where Damsels in Distress fits in, and it’s no surprise that the film starts almost the exact same way as Metropolitan. Whereas Tom Townsend (Edward Clements) is integrated into the private realm in an effort to recruit a new member, Lily (Analeigh Tipton) is spotted from across the room by Violet (Greta Gerwig) and immediately sought after in order to fill out the private realm. The public realm’s presence (the Seven Oaks college campus) is the first time a fictitious environment becomes the looming presence of influence in a Stillman film. A quirky arena, Seven Oaks is full of real-world embodiments, such as the Daily Complainer, the fraternities (here Roman, not Greek), the condescending intellectuals, and overall presence of college conformity. Jesus, it’s about as populated and diverse as a Harry Potter film. But what is interesting is Stillman’s approach in integrating the public realm into these characters’ lives, and it may be his most simplistic approach yet: by simply utilizing various characters as Devil’s Advocates.

It’s no coincidence that Lily’s namesake is the flowery counterpart to Violet, who changed her name as a child in an effort to escape the pressures of the public realm. But lo and behold, Lily represents the society that drove Violet into solitude, often challenging her absurd and ostensibly wise comments right and left. Violet constantly challenges societal norms, then is subsequently challenged by Lily, and then finds solace in those norms. During one of Violet’s early rants, she speaks of searching for a boyfriend “below” her on the intellectual ladder, asserting that it’s much more satisfying to find a man who hasn’t reached his full potential and help him achieve it than to crash and burn with a more well-equipped man. No surprise that Violet is then cheated by her homelier counterpart Frank (Ryan Metcalf) and then wooed by the suave, martini-sipping Fred (Adam Brody (where’s he been?!)). And as these various hypocrisies repeat themselves, we find a young woman who isn’t just conforming to societal pressures, but finding comfort in them.

Thus, it’s Violet’s attitude toward the idiosyncratic characters that flood the Seven Oaks campus that counter Lily and Xavier’s (Hugo Becker) predestined judgment of those that don’t conform to societal pressures (hell, Lily and Xavier seem as though they were straight pulled from Metropolitan in that regard). Violet may often times be wrong (the Zorro/Xorro history lesson; the origin of the Charleston) and appear misguided, but powerful trait of acceptance becomes her most admirable flaw. A flaw in the sense that she misjudges Frank and Fred’s roles as romantic partners, but not in the sense that these .people don’t deserve acceptance. Xavier himself accuses Fred of pressuring Lily, just before pressuring Lily to have sex (the other way) in compliance with his religion…a religion he soon abandons. Characters lash out and judge others and then immediately require understanding, as seen with Xavier’s defense of his religion, despite his complete and utter denial of there being a need for the Roman fraternities.

“Humility comes from within. If it’s not there in the first place, where do you go to get it? I stopped looking for mine a long time ago.”

That hilarious and slightly depressing realization comes from Rose (Megalyn Echikunwoke), who has misplaced her own humility so badly that she employs (as we find out at the end of the film) a fake British accent she obtained from a year-long stint in England. Violet and the eccentric friends she attempts to help are often the most humble at Seven Oaks, which marks a moment where the threat of the public realm hasn’t quite dictated how these characters function. Lily is the voice of reason, but only in terms of being “correct”, a.k.a. what society has often preached. Violet may be an anti-conformist for the sake of being an anti-conformist, but that’s more of a representation of her beleaguered past than a misguided sense of humility. She may connect on a surface level with someone like Thor (Billy Magnussen), who never learned his colors, but it’s their shared sense of humility that bounds them to each other and conflicts with the public realm’s disgorged characters (Lily and Xavier).

In fact, it’s Thor’s eventual grasp on the idea of colors that marks the most beautiful and sidesplitting moment in such a contrast. Early in the film, Priss (Caitlin Fitzgerald) flirts with Frank and notes his amazingly blue eyes. “If my eyes were blue, then wouldn’t everything look blue when I look out them?” he asks defensively. As Priss seems confounded by such a revelation, Thor then joins the conversation, admitting that he indeed cannot identify individual colors. “You think knowing colors is so important?” he challenges, asserting a mindset that may very well hold water and completely contradict an accepted way of thinking in the public realm. “You shouldn’t have to be embarrassed about not knowing stuff. You should be embarrassed by pretending to know about stuff when you don’t.” This assessement—coming from a man who cannot tell blue from green—is quite astute and hits the nail on the head in regards to the public realm’s collective attitude towards non-conformists. His emotionally heated response to Priss’ bewilderment (a byproduct of the pubic realm) is a striking moment of humility, as he admits that his lack of knowledge in regards to colors is the exact reason he attends college. His genuine gumption to learn and become a better person completely contrasts the image of the Romans painted by Xavier and the Daily Complainer, and it’s a gumption that Violet wholeheartedly embraces. Recalling her “dance can cure depression!” methods and her infatuation with soap, it’s Violet’s denial of the public realm that allows her to shape her very own private realm and truly help others.

It’s this oppressing presence of the public realm that often challenges Violet’s strive to help others. The campus takes on its own crippling personality as students continually jump from the education building, which isn’t high enough to kill, but “only high enough to maim.” It’s this idea that conforming to the public realm—which often times wins, as in the case of shutting down the Roman fraternities—will either make you or (literally) break you, and it’s Violet’s ability to fight back against such an impossibly large task that ultimately shapes her character arc. But once again, it’s finding one’s own solace through the public realm’s methods that determine those arcs. Thor may very well find happiness in the fact that he can recite each of the colors in the rainbow, which may seem like conformation of the public realm, but it’s his own unique trajectory and his dictation of such meaning that shapes his very own private realm.

Stillman may be cynical, but there’s something beautiful about how his characters guide themselves towards these realizations instead of the public realm dictating their emotions. The fallout of a musical revolution may guide the characters’ paths in Disco, but it doesn’t shape their emotional arcs, which is put on full display as Alice (Chloë Sevigny) and Josh (Matt Keeslar) continue dancing in the subway as the credits roll. A similar effect is had as Violet and Fred dance the "Sambola!" which marks Violet’s fulfillment of starting a dance craze. However, despite her initiative to strike a worldwide dance craze and thus influence the public realm, we find such a helpless battle whittling down into a transformation of Violet’s own private realm, which completely transcends the idea conforming to the public realm’s often soulless norms. With her dance, Violet finally discovers that her grand mission of helping others can be fulfilled on a smaller scale. But more importantly, she finds that making herself happy plays just as big of a part.

Remember, Cinema Beans' and Modigliani Movie Inquiries' 2011 book is available on laptops, tablets, and smart phones. It's a collection of our analyses of 2011 films, and a 2012 edition is coming soon. You can also rent it for free, or you can buy it for $2.99. Think of it as a donation. Thanks!