Gender Difference and Feminine Constructs in Metropolis
Written by Gauntgirl, copyright 2001
Fritz Lang’s film Metropolis (1926) is actively engaged in the negotiation of numerous cultural discourses – Socialism, class struggle, Capitalism, and technology… - it is, however, the film’s engagement in gender discourses that, I believe, have the greatest consequences for the emerging sphere of feminist film and cultural theory. Gender difference and the feminine in Metropolis are examined through explorations of architectural symbols (both in the literal/visual sense and in the sense of the cinematic apparatus), through the use of religious and political allegory, and in the exploration of emerging psychoanalytic imagery. It is my position that these cinematic techniques serve to reinforce the reality of dominant patriarchal ideologies and the objectification of women.
The 1920’s saw the beginnings of great ideological upheaval throughout the Western world. Post WWI Germany, specifically, saw great economical and political depression. Her people were thirsty for stability, and militaristic ideologies soon fell back into favor. In the literary and art worlds, Futurists (connected to the Fascist movement in Italy) were looking forward to the utopian possibilities of emerging architectural and militaristic technologies - one of their favorite painterly subjects being the Eiffel Tower. Equal to their enthusiasm for the technological war-machine were their misogynistic viewpoints. Counter to the Futurists, the 1920’s also saw ‘First Wave of Feminism’ and demands for gender equality and the breakdown of gender difference (primarily in relation to women’s right to vote and for equal pay in the work force). First Wave Feminism was manifest in Weimar Cinema by the appearance of androgyny (challenging the image of the feminized Woman) and the cautious exploration of lesbianism and bi-sexuality (i.e. Leontine Sagan’s film Madchen in Uniform [1931]). As a compliment to the emerging Feminist movement, Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalytic theories were revolutionizing the ways in which gender and sexuality are understood. His theories on repressed sexuality and his identification of the layers of consciousness were well on the way to becoming a major source of inspiration for feminist film theory. Clearly this was an era culturally and artistically informed by varying and conflicted ideologies. Within the context of these dialectical discourses, Metropolis emerged as a somber commentary on the feminine position in relation to the symbolic patriarchal order.
Images of patriarchal ideologies are center to the themes of Metropolis. The surface world, inhabited by the upper classes, is characterized by phallic architecture (reminiscent of the towers idealized by the Futurists). In contrast, the world of the working class is subterranean – a feminized, repressed space that plunges deep into the “womb” of the Earth. Ruling the surface world is Fredersen – the acting voice of patriarchy characterized by the images of technological progress and power that surround him. The subterranean world of the worker, however, is a primitive environment informed by theological allegory. This world is ruled by Maria, characterized by dominant gender stereotypes as “virgin” and “mother”. Maria is a symbol of virtue. Surrounded by Christian imagery, she appears as an angel, preaching to the workers the importance of peace, patience and temperance – clearly feminine qualities. She is a holy mother figure. The workers’ children cling to her as their loving protector, as do the men in their need for motherly guidance. This point has the most significant relevance to Fredersen’s son, Freder. In Thea von Harbou’s script, Maria (and her eventual doppelganger) is representative of Freder’s dead mother. As Freder falls in love with Maria he is symbolically engaged in the ultimate taboo, Oedipal desire, and Maria becomes the ultimate threat to masculine power and sexuality. Despite her benevolent teachings, Maria poses great threat (castration anxiety) to the symbolic stability of the patriarchal regime and therefore must be punished.
Under the guise of creating the perfect worker machine, an obedient creature of technology, Rotwang and Fredersen ultimately construct, literally and figuratively, the quintessential object of masculine desire – woman as “Vamp” or whore. This act of motherless reproduction creates a being of great contradiction. This robot Maria, despite her feminine, sexualized exterior, is ultimately intended as a tool of the patriarchy to alleviate the threat of castration caused by the real Maria. She is a monster of the masculine world meant to subvert the feminine. Her mechanical innards, an already enforced image of masculine power and progress, find contradiction in her hyper-sexualized exterior. In an attempt to reinforce her position as a subservient tool of patriarchy, she is presented to the elite males as a whore at the brothel, Yoshiwaras. In cinematic terms, we can see this process of male subjectivity in the manner that the robotic Maria is framed by what appears to be a huge metal iris behind which she begins her strip tease. The image of this giant eye is then followed by collages of eyes reinforcing the idea that she is a mere projection of male desire from both the profilmic and actual audiences. By constructing her as an object of male desire with a fractured identity, any threat of castration she may pose is alleviated. In spite of these masculine constructions, the robotic Maria challenges her predetermined role as object of the gaze and as a mode towards feminine subversion. She becomes the “castrating woman” – an embodiment of destructive power, the masculine her victim. She is an image of abjection in that she challenges dominant ideologies of gender difference. She embodies the dialectic between the feminine conventions of subservient sexuality and the masculine characteristics of aggression and progress. It is her masculine nature that ultimately destroys the passivity of the worker’s feminine world while threatening the technological progression of the patriarchy that created her. This transgression against masculine authority requires that Maria’s monstrous doppelganger be punished as well. The robot’s transgressions, however, are far more severe than Maria was ever capable of. In fact, the robot accomplished that which she was intended to prevent – the breakdown of power between the consuming patriarchal authority and the passively producing feminized world. The false Maria therefore takes on the role of scapegoat and is branded a witch – the ultimate image of feminine evil, connected to the Devil and Hell (another subterranean, feminized location).
The conflicting gender ideologies explored in Metropolis (and indeed in the cultural discourses of the 1920’s) may, on the surface, appear to challenge dominant constructs of gender difference. This challenge, however, is merely skin-deep at best. The ultimate consequence, for women in particular, in subverting one’s predetermined position within the symbolic order is chaos and punishment by death. Even the true Maria does not escape punishment. Although, in the end, there appears to be harmony between the “head” and the “hands”, Maria is denied her rightful position as the “heart” in the harmony. Despite the fact that it was her thoughtfulness that offered hope of mediation in the first place, the position of mediator/savior is taken by the relative outsider, Freder. Clearly, Maria’s feminine gender continues to represent a level of threat and sexual anxiety, and the possibility for significant social change is suspect.
BibliographyMulvey, Laura. "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema," Screen, 16,3(1975): p. 6-18
Ruppert, Peter. Technology and the Construction of Gender in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. www.genders.org, 2000
Thornham, Sue. Passionate Detachments: An Introduction to Feminist Film Theory. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1997
