Gender Analysis of The Crying Game

Gender Analysis of The Crying Game Through a close analysis of The Crying Game, examine Judith Butler’s notion of the performativity of gender There appear to be many similarities between Neil Jordan’s 1992 movie The Crying Game and Judith Butler’s theory of the performativity of gender as promulgated in her seminal book Gender Trouble, which has been one of the most hotly contested intellectual studies on feminism published in the past fifty years. Both managed to cause major controversy by turning the traditional notion of gender on its head and both invite the audience/reader to question society’s making of ‘man’, ‘woman’, ‘masculinity’ and ‘femininity’. The following analysis seeks to show how Butler’s ideas managed to permeate Jordan’s film, which is – it should be noted – a much more complex movie than a mere study of gender issues. First, however, a definition of the ‘performativity’ of gender must be attempted so as to establish a conceptual framework for the remainder of the discussion. Judith Butler’s theory on gender should be interpreted within the broader social and political context of feminist theory that came in two distinct ‘waves’ during the 1960’s and the 1970’s. After securing the requisite political achievements gained by the advances of the first wave, the second, more radicalised wave of feminism sought to challenge historical notions of man and woman in western society, â€Å"which maintains male dominance by co‑opting women and suppressing the feminine. These arguments link dominant western forms of rationality with male power and control over women and nature, which is associated with violence, oppression and destruction.†[1] Thus, while Butler’s views are doubtlessly revolutionary, they should also be read within this dominant feminist climate of deep‑seated change that characterised the second half of the twentieth century in the West, which sought to deliberately create divisions between heterosexual men and heterosexual women in order to further the feminist cause. This is also the reason behind the alliance between radical feminism and the gay and lesbian communities, which was forged at this time and which is directly relevant to the performativity of gender as seen in The Crying Game. Butler’s views deviate from the feminist norm with regards to the way in which she formulates the idea of having to ‘perform’ the parts of man and woman in contemporary society. In this sense, she sees both masculinity and femininity as being manufactured by culture and she plants the idea that if this culture were structured along less visibly male‑female lines, then the two g enders would behave in a discernibly different manner. This is the idea which is used in The Crying Game to which attention must now be turned. The Crying Game is a movie that is as much about the Troubles of the IRA as it is a film about trans‑gender analysis. The plot concerns the nucleus of a small band of Irish terrorists who kidnap a British soldier (Forest Whitaker) for the purpose of exchanging him in order to secure the release of captive IRA operatives in UK jails. The gang is led by Maguire (Adrian Dunbar) and also contains Jude (Miranda Richardson) and Fergus (Stephen Rea.) It is the character of Fergus who will become the main focus of the film as first he finds himself unable to the kill the British soldier, Jody and subsequently he embarks upon discovering the dead man’s lover, Dil (Jaye Davidson) to whom he finds himself immediately attracted. This burgeoning relationship between Fergus and Dil is fraught with tension as Fergus feels tortured by guilt for the death of Jody (although Fergus lets him go, the soldier is still accidentally killed by a British tank). This tension is an essential cinem atic precursor to the movie’s central plot twist, which comes as a major surprise to the viewing audience. Before moving towards a critical appraisal of the revelation that occurs within the relationship of Dil and Fergus, mention must be made of the way in which Neil Jordan manages to exploit the traditional notions of woman in film. By picking an androgynous looking actor to play Dil, the director tricks the audience into believing a traditional heterosexual relationship between a man and a woman is about to take place – a relationship rendered tragic by the loss both characters have already suffered. This coupling, in film history, has usually seen the man seducing the woman who acts as the aesthetically beautiful centrepiece of the action. â€Å"In the celluloid brothel of the cinema, where the merchandise may be eyed endlessly but never purchased, the tension between the beauty of the woman, which is admirable, and the denial of the sexuality which is the source of that beauty but is also immoral, reaches a perfect impasse.†[2] Therefore, when it slowly transpires that Dil is not yet another example of the cinematic female beauty but is in fact a man, the sense of shock is all the more pronounced. As with Butler’s idea on the performativity of gender, Jordan stops short of stating this development as a fact; instead, it is left open to conjecture as a philosophical question: does Dil’s biology mean that he is a man no matter what or does the fact that he has assumed a female role mean that he has transgressed the gender divide to become a woman in the cultural sense? This is a key line of inquiry in radical feminist ideology and one that has no direct answer. For instance, although traditionalists would argue that no‑one can ever reverse the gender of their birth liberals would likewise state that gender is a construct of society and that both males and females should be freely able to choose not only their sexuality but also their gender. This is a direct descendent of Judith Butlerâ⠂¬â„¢s Gender Trouble where the author argues the case that men and women both perform the roles of masculine and feminine without ever questioning its validity in this way. â€Å"Gender is †¦ a construction that regularly conceals its genesis; the tacit collective agreement to perform, produce and sustain discrete and polar genders as cultural fictions is obscured by the credibility of those productions – and the punishments that attend not agreeing to believe in them.†[3] Fergus’ response to the realisation that Dil is a transvestite is typically male and typical of society’s general horror at such transgressions of sexuality and gender. His first response is to punch Dil in the face and retract his previous statements of affection. He exits the scene, leaving Dil lying bloodied on the floor. Fergus’ disgust is mirrored in the shock felt by the contemporary cinema audience, which was manifested in mass protests from Christian and conformist communities when the film was released both in the UK and abroad. The director makes sure not to over or under dramatise the revelation of Dil’s transgression of gender, preferring instead to let the remainder of the plot play out to the backdrop of the shock of the ongoing relationship between the two main characters. With the spectre of the IRA unexpectedly re‑appearing towards the end of the film, the audience is transported away from the notion of the performativity of gender to see how Fergus is able to rise above his initial feeling of disgust to save Dil from prison after the shooting of Fergus’ old comrade, Jude. Interestingly, Dil is compelled to murder Jude when it transpires that she had enjoyed a sexual relationship with Jody while the soldier was in her captivity. Thus, there is no doubt that – after all that has transpired – Dil still identifies herself as a woman and is directly challenged by the more obviously feminine Jude. At this point, mention must be made of the difference between Butlerâ€⠄¢s notion of the performativity of gender and the kind of transgender concepts encapsulated in drag and cross‑dressing. â€Å"In the majority of the works that have followed in Butler’s wake, drag (as the parodic enactment of gender) is represented as something one can choose to do: the imputation is that one can be whatever type of gender one wants to be, and can perform gender in whatever way one fancies. This is what you might call a voluntarist model of identity because it assumes that it is possible to freely and consciously create one’s own identity. Whilst in many ways this voluntarist account of gender performance is in direct contrast with Butler’s notion of performativity, it is also, at least in part, a consequence of the ambiguity of Butler’s own account of the distinction between performance and performativity in Gender Trouble.†[4] Appropriately, Neil Jordan never alludes to whether or not Dill is voluntarily transgressing gender or whether it is a biological necessity for man to have morphed into woman. This mirrors Butler’s ambiguity and the ambiguity that pervades every aspect of the notion of crossing gender, which is one of the more intellectually challenging concepts for any society to grapple with. Ultimately, though, The Crying Game ends with a hint of the director’s views on the subject. During the final scene, which is set years later, Dil asks Fergus why he took the blame for her. Recounting an earlier scene, Fergus replies, â€Å"It’s in my nature.† This implies that there is no choice with regards to gender, sexuality and performance. We are what we are. Conclusion The Crying Game is a challenging film that operates on a variety of levels. Politics, race and gender are all subject to scrutiny without being dealt with in a moralistic way. Judith Butler’s notion pertaining to the performativity of gender is likewise a multifaceted study that has greatly influenced feminist ideology and has clearly infiltrated the mind of director Neil Jordan. In the final analysis, there can be no doubt that there is a strong link between the two without any simple, broad‑based conclusion being put forward by either party. In both instances, it is left up to the reader and viewer to make their minds up concerning gender and the wider issue of whether it is nature that constructs our sexual being or whether it is cultural nurturing that subconsciously encourages us to play the roles of heterosexual men and women. This is a difficult sensible balancing act to maintain, yet it is also ultimately sensible as both The Crying Game and Gender Trouble arriv e at the opinion that there can be no one deduction that manages to satisfy everyone. The conclusion, like the choice of gender and sexuality, must in the end be wholly subjective. BIBLIOGRAPHY Butler, J. (1990) Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity London: Routledge Carter, A. (1978) The Saideian Woman and the Ideology of Pornography New York: Harper Row Featherstone, M. (Ed.) (2000) Body Modification London: SAGE Shaviro, S. (1993) The Cinematic Body: Theory out of Bounds, Volume 2 Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press Stallybrass, P. and White, A. (1986) The Politics and Poetics of Transgression London: Routledge Sullivan, N. (2003) A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press Weedon, C. (1987) Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory London and New York: Blackwell FILMS The Crying Game (Neil Jordan; 1992) Footnotes [1] Weedon, C. (1987) Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory London and New York: Blackwell, p.7 [2] Carter, A. (1978) The Saideian Woman and the Ideology of Pornography New York: Harper Row, p.60 [3] Butler, J. (1990) Gender Trouble London: Routledge, p.140 [4] Sullivan, N. (2003) A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, p.87