“Ocean’s 8” and the Powerful Potential of a Female Villain
Spoilers ahead.
I had so much fun watching Ocean’s 8, it should be illegal.
(Hold for applause.)
Debbie Ocean (Sandra Bullock) sets out to pull off the most ambitious heist ever: she’s going to rob hundreds of millions of dollars worth of priceless jewels from the Met Gala. The goal of the caper is two-fold: obviously, a few mill is never a bad thing, but Debbie also seeks revenge against Claude Becker (Richard Armitage), a bougie art dealer ex-boyfriend and the reason Debbie was locked up to begin with. Sister of the supposedly late Danny Ocean (George Clooney from Ocean’s 11–13), Debbie is the best of the best, and she assembles a team of the slyest, slickest, and most diabolical thieves in New York. But Ocean has one rule for recruitment: No men allowed. As she further elaborates to her partner (in crime?), Lou (Cate Blanchett): “A him gets noticed, a her gets ignored. And for once, we want to be ignored.” And she has a point. Heist films have become elaborate fairytales of smooth, sleek masculinity — handsome men in suits with unbridled swagger, waltzing into a casino and stealing millions of dollars. The women are the distractions, the bait, the femme fatales. Who would suspect a group of glamorous women of stealing $150 million dollars?
The casting was perhaps the crux of the piece. The Ocean’s films bank on the audience’s perception of the star-studded cast. Bullock’s effortless leadership and wit are like seasoning for a perfect caper leader — she’s down-to-earth but otherworldly, the everywoman with the immeasurable beauty and power we all see in ourselves on our best days. Blanchett was the perfect Brad Pitt equivalent, exuding a mystery and sex appeal that’s difficult to put into words. Helena Bonham-Carter got to showcase her swaying, frazzled strangeness as a somewhat washed-up designer, and Rihanna…well, she was the hacker version of Rihanna, and we’re all here for it. Perhaps most notable was Anne Hathaway’s Daphne Kruger, a shallow, narcissistic actress and the wearer of the coveted $150 million necklace. Daphne was a sarcastic nod to Hathaway’s real-life persona, and a biting indictment of audiences who see her in this way. Not only did she turn out to be smarter than we thought by the end, but she was a vital part of the plan. It was truly subversive, and Hathaway played the hell out of the role.
Yes, plot-holes, and yes, mild predictability. But I don’t watch Ocean’s movies for some profound revelation. I watch for sexy thieves, well-tailored suits (shoutout to Cate Blanchett pulling off a deep-V, 3-piece emerald pantsuit), and some witty one-liners about being a thief. All the Ocean’s films are littered with sneaky humor, and Ocean’s 8 was no exception (see: literally everything Rihanna and Mindy Kahling say.) But the best line in Ocean’s 8 was uttered by Debbie Ocean moments before the heist began as she applied mascara in a dirty public bathroom mirror (relatable.) She was thanking her accomplices for their help in what was about to be the biggest heist in history and reminding them why they were doing it (apart from, of course, the millions and millions of dollars.)
“Somewhere out there, there’s an eight-year-old girl dreaming of becoming a criminal. Do this for her.”
This line oozes with self-awareness and subversion. Bullock’s delivery is perfection — she teases us for a moment as we’re left expecting some kind of cliche and mushy statement about how women can do anything men can do. But then she flips it, and reminds us that all these beautiful, glamorous women are about to commit a felony, and that just like men, women can be motivated by nothing more than money. And she doesn’t care what you think about that.We’re living in a strange, post-#MeToo world. We want more women in movies and TV, but we’re not sure how to do it. Even among other women, I’ve had plenty of tense discussions about ideal representations, and sometimes it seems everyone’s ideas are different. But my stance has always been the same: Equality, not equity. Equity works well in social and political situations — for example, we have to close the wage gap between men and women, but if women’s health and hygiene products remain the same price, women should be paid more than men. If a company that is hiring is over 80% men, they should give preference to women and non-binary people. But when it comes to media, the idea of equity rubs me the wrong way.
You know how in virtually every spy movie, the head of the CIA/FBI/secret organization is Black? Or how the principal, judge, or person ultimately who makes the big decision tends to be a strong, independent, Black man or woman who doesn’t take any shit but still garners an unbelievable amount of respect? That’s a combination of two phenomenons: tokenism and moral licensing. Tokenism is when writers, casting directors, and producers will select a certain — usually small — number of people of color to insert into films and shows to show that they are not racist. Putting these people in positions of power drives their point home: how could we be racist? We totally believe this Black guy is the police commissioner because Black people are totally capable of achieving that. Never mind the systematic hurdles they would have had to jump over in order to reach that point, they won’t talk about that. This also gives them permission to let otherwise questionable ideas or characters slide. Similar to how Obama’s presidency meant to some people that racism was over, it’s fine to have a gang of Black drug dealers because the judge is Black! Racism solved, let’s all get a drink.
I worry that with the current influx of female-led tentpoles and But-With-Women reboots and spinoffs, we may fall into a similar trap. As a child, I idolized both Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus. We all want to be a hero, but there’s something alluring about a well-developed villain, with his own motivation, history, and ideology. True equality of the sexes won’t happen until we have a female Joker, a female Alex DeLarge, a female Darth Vader. Not only are these meaty roles for female actors, they’re an example for little girls like me — an example of the dangers of unbridled narcissism and the temptation of the dark side. A warning that we will always see ourselves as the heroes of our own stories and a reminder to stay self-aware and altruistic. And a bunch of really great Halloween costumes.
If you search “female villains,” you get some pretty badass results. Cinematic icons like Bellatrix LeStrange from Harry Potter, O-Ren Iishi from Kill Bill, and Mystique from X-Men are certainly worth praise. But what about Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada? Or Regina George from Mean Girls? Or Amy Dunn from Gone Girl? The best villains both attract and repel us. They garner thinkpieces from actual psychologists, just for audiences to get a coveted look into their psyche. They change the hero, because in many ways, they’re the same. They act as a dark mirror, a person the hero could easily become. This forces the hero to re-evaluate themselves as they are and understand that in some ways, the villain is right. Take Killmonger, for instance. Lauded as the best Marvel villain in the MCU to date, Killmonger works because he changes T’Challa’s mind. He’s the antithesis of everything T’Challa knows and believes, and thus, he forces T’Challa to question his own morality. That, and we kind of like him.
A good villain has to be charming, likable to a degree, and easy for audiences to connect with. They have to be smart enough to go head-to-head with the hero, and they need to be revered. They can be ruthless, merciless, or even sociopathic, but they need to have moments of goodness. The best ones feel real. Miranda Priestly feels real because I’ve had bosses just like her, who I feared and respected in the same breath. In Ocean’s, the villains are heroes. They’re thieves and conmen who never question whether what they’re doing is morally sound. Sure, they don’t hurt or kill anyone, but there’s no second thought to shamelessly deceiving people in order to get rich.
A movie with Claude Becker as the protagonist is believable — a handsome, successful art dealer who framed a woman in the past now has to fight her off as she seeks retribution in the most elaborate way possible. Of course, he probably would have bested her in this version. He would have found the jewels, cut a deal with Cartier insurance broker James Corden, and sent Debbie Ocean back to jail. Perhaps he would have suffered a little heartbreak when he realized his new boo, Daphne Kruger, was in on the plan. Or maybe he’d tell Debbie he still loves her as she’s thrown into the back of the police car. Then he would go back to his nice apartment with weird tree art and continue to be successful. If he learned anything, it would be that framing people from crimes is bad.
We all want to see ourselves as the heroes, but at some point in our lives, we’ve all been the villain. We’ve been mean, vindictive, or manipulative for our own personal gain. We’ve rationalized doing something bad because it was ultimately for a good cause. Or we’ve been broke as hell, mad at our ex, and wanted to steal a few million dollars because it’s fun. That’s what makes us real people. It’s what gives us character and a sense of humor. I want more movies about women stealing stuff for no particular reason, about women using their intellect and charm to break the law. I want to see badass women whose only motivation is to get rich. I want women who know they have a questionable moral compass and don’t give a damn. I want a female villain who can give a man a run for his money, and ultimately change his life.
And I want Cate Blanchett’s green suit.
