Monday, 12 April 2004

Even most dramatic roles for women, when viewed not as entertainment but as, if I may, art, are drivel. Now, Voyager and Sophie's Choice treat us to the noble spectacle of women either crying or bravely not crying. Is this writing for women? Well, it is writing about women. Or about their simulacrum. Tennessee Williams, Truman Capote, Noël Coward wrote women characters that were fantasies about homosexual men. Can real women be written by men? Well, who is to say? The terrible voices of that coercion known as political correctness cry - but they cry not for parity, let alone humanity. They cry for power.
David Mamet, whose play, Oleanna (about a woman who claims she was raped) enraged feminists and scandalised audiences, wants to know why he can't "show a woman telling lies?"

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