Melissa Rosenberg’s portfolio is more than a little confusing. One of the most successful writers in Hollywood is the woman in charge of Jessica Jones, the feminist, black Netflix series that goes beyond the limits of which no one thought Marvel was capable. Rosenberg was a staff writer on The OC (season one, when he was briefly good) and rose to executive producer on Dexter (season four, when he was still good). He directed the short-lived Red Widow for ABC, with a difficult female lead who drew complicated comparisons to Walter White.
And … she wrote the Twilight movies. Hope for? Twilight is hugely troublesome, with its messages against abortion, normalization of abusive behavior, and sexual conservatism. Not to mention being one of the least great cultural products of the last two decades, scorned by critics and ridiculed on the internet. Obviously, Rosenberg was hampered by the fact that she was adapting faulty source material, but for the Twihard-hating Comic Con fanboys of the world, she was tainted by the association.
So how did a smart woman committed to attractive female characters play a pivotal role in giving the world Bella Swan? Let’s go back and remember that in 2015, women made up 22% of the protagonists, 18% of the antagonists, 34% of the main characters, and 33% of all the speaking characters in America’s Top 100 Movies. Behind the camera, women made up 19% of all directors, writers, executive producers, producers, editors, and filmmakers (1). Twilight, a romance aimed at female audiences, was one of the few great projects that would likely be written by a woman. The series had a built-in fan base for the success of the novels and featured acclaimed directors such as Catherine Hardwicke and David Slade. From a professional point of view, it must have been a tempting prospect, a unique opportunity.
Rosenberg has reflected on the unprecedented hatred that Twilight generated due to its female orientation. With Twilight, the condemnation extended beyond the movies to fans, with the kind of anger reserved for things women like. The franchise was known for its deeply engaged and predominantly female audience. And yet Twilight proved that a movie with a female fandom could still become a huge box office success, a “tent” movie.
Would The Hunger Games, Divergent and even Pitch Perfect and Bridesmaids have been made if it weren’t for the enormous financial success of Twilight? Wasn’t Twilight a crucial part of the recent recognition that there is a massive audience for blockbusters with female leads? Even if it perpetuated some very outdated and harmful ideas, Twilight may have cleared the way for updated and exciting ideas as well.
And once Rosenberg adapted the franchise that made about $ 3.3 billion worldwide, he could choose his project. So what do you do after giving the world a record-breaking franchise that simultaneously enforced harmful gender dynamics and affirmed the power and legitimacy of female audiences?
Developing the first major superhero of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, of course. Not only that, but they make her the kind of complex, flawed, funny, dark, and non-sexualized female character ovarian geeks have been praying for. And then put it into a narrative that focuses on the realities of domestic violence, survival from sexual assault, toxic masculinity, and sexism. And then throw in an interracial relationship and queer characters for good measure. Yes, you have to wonder if Rosenberg was trying to rehab some of his creative karma here.
Jessica Jones is an icy cup of female badassery in a vast desert of hilariously male superhero franchises. Her cheeky, grimy, and expressionless is anathema in an endless Technicolor landscape of biceps, cleavage, and furrowed brows. She has been hailed by Rolling Stone as “a corrective to the way women have been depicted in earlier comic book stories.” This is Marvel’s redemption after the ongoing Black Widow debacle. It is glorious to see such an imperfect female character that she is unapologetic. She is a heavy drinking, sadly sarcastic and emotionally embodied antihero that we see cursing, urinating and having sex with girls in the first hour or two. Rosenberg has described how “she was exactly the character I wanted to write in my entire career. She was a fully formed human being, not a one-dimensional character; she was not the wife, not the police, not whatever” (2). The more procedural elements of the series remind us of Veronica Mars, also a black detective story centered on a tough, intelligent and flawed woman whose skills are crucial and whose appearance is secondary. Both stories also address themes of sexual assault, although Jessica Jones is far more concerned with criticizing the harmful models of masculinity in which we wear men.
It seems impossible that the same woman who wrote the dialogue between Bella and Edward was behind this program. In fact, Jessica Jones is diametrically opposed to Twilight: sex-positive, pro-choice, and anti-abuse. Mirror and reverse the Twilight love story. In a daring twist, Jessica Jones reimagines Twilight’s weird and repressed sex scene as genuinely sexy and reciprocal, as Jessica and Luke have super-powered sex intense enough to break the bed. Kilgrave, the manipulative, obsessive and abusive control freak, is Edward Cullen unmasked. Jessica is immune to Kilgrave’s abilities, just like Edward cannot read Bella’s mind. Both men watch and control the object of their affections, exercising violence to “protect” their feminine possessions from other suitors. Like Edward, Kilgrave’s intimate abuse comes in the form of “romance”; “I would do anything for you”, “we are inevitable”, “I can’t be a hero without you” “I saved you … I wiped your tears away.” Doesn’t that sound terrifyingly close to “I couldn’t let you get away from me? It hurts just to imagine it,” “she’s mine,” or “don’t even think about it.” and bring you back “?
This series treats extreme professions of love for the unhealthy excuses that they are, turning the supposedly romantic behavior of controlling men upside down. Like Edward with his predatory magnetism, Kilgrave was born with the power to make other people do what he wanted. But where Edward kept women in supposedly sexy bondage, Jessica Jones condemns this kind of control and explores issues of explicit consent, rights, and power. Part of the dialogue here could be on posters against domestic violence (Trish: “men and power. It’s a serious disease”). The twisted parallels between the two characters highlight how messy our concept of masculinity really is, and why fantasy, consent, and ‘romance’ are such confusing territory for both men and women.
So how do we reconcile the opposing voices of Melissa Rosenberg? Perhaps in the boys’ entertainment club, women have to compromise in order to tell the stories they want to tell. Perhaps the success of Twilight and the films that followed mean that the next wave of female creators will not have to give in. Perhaps Rosenberg is not even aware of the contradictions. But leaving vampirism and human flight aside, only one of these stories seems to be telling the truth. Abuse isn’t romantic, obsession isn’t love, and when someone breaks into your house, it’s damn creepy. And if Jessica Jones were up against Edward Cullen, I know who she would be supporting.
(1) http://womenintvfilm.sdsu.edu/research.html
(2) http://variety.com/2015/tv/features/jessica-jones-marvel-melissa-rosenberg-1201644912/