Listening to DeVotchKa, All the Sand in All the Sea

I watched the movie Eat, Pray, Love for the thirtieth time last night and I noticed something that I had never paid attention to before, the male entitlement rampant in the film.

The flash back of Liz’s, Julia Roberts, wedding where the groom, Stephen, played by Billy Crudup, decides to trash the wedding song and the dance that they had rehearsed together, and instead, makes a high kicking spectacle of himself with cringe worthy choreography. Put on the spot, Liz awkwardly looks on, enduring it. She laughs it off, but the lack of respect he demonstrates in that scene tells us everything we need to know about the nature of that relationship. What she might have wanted, what was important to her on their special day, was irrelevant to him. Throughout the marriage, Stephen jumps from one job to another consumed by his own self interests. He makes decisions with no regard for Liz’s needs. She is suspended in a marriage where she has no real support. Liz is simply an appliance in the marriage, expected to meet her husband’s needs while her needs are ignored. When she finally decides to leave the marriage, she is unhealed and jumps into the arms of David, James Franco. From the beginning, we watch him love bomb Liz and quickly do a 180° turn into the territory of emotional distancing and covert abuse. 

In Italy, we see the culturally condoned ogling of Liz and her friend, Sofi, Tuva Novotny, by strange men as they walk down the street. And I cannot overlook the incompetence of Giovanni, Luca Argentero, who could not even be bothered to thaw the turkey for Liz’s special Thanksgiving dinner. It’s such a small detail, but it matters. 

In India, at the ashram, the character of Richard, played by Richard Jenkins, feels justified in crossing Liz’s clear boundaries. He offers unsolicited advice and criticism, giving Liz the nickname, Groceries, because he determines her appetite to be excessive. I found the audacity of Richard hard to stomach. We are supposed to view this character as helpful, offering her, again, an unsolicited information dump where he unfurls past trauma under the guise of helping her forgive herself.

Finally, in Liz’s love phase, enters Felipe, Javier Bardem. He is sensitive. He cries. He was comfortable in the nurturing role of being a caregiver to his son. Of all of her love interests, he appears as the most balanced. Still, at times, his behavior comes across as controlling, entering her home without invitation, stalking her at the bar, even following Liz and her young, studly dance partner to the beach. And there is the whole impromptu boat trip to a secluded island that he springs on her without considering whether or not she might actually want to do that. Again, we get a glimpse of culturally condoned mistreatment of women through the backstory of Nuriasih, Christine Hakim. With no rights, she is forced to give up all her property to an abusive husband in order to have custody of her daughter. 

Male selfishness is endemic of a system that puts male needs above those of females. Women are so conditioned to accept this behavior as normal, that the we are blind to it. Maybe this is the reason I never noticed these things before. We are taught to tolerate and accept this behavior without question. The entire movie points out how low the bar is set for men and how women are conditioned to accommodate this weaponized incompetence and lack of accountability, at the risk of losing ourselves. It paid homage to a patriarchal system and the many ways it fails everyone, in big and small ways. But when these disrespectful behaviors are normalized, we are doomed to hurt and to be hurt. The deeper level of intimacy and connection can never be reached because we destroy the trust between us with each little cut. We can do better. 

Happy Tuesday!