Traditions and Thoughts

Gypsy, the musical by Arthur Laurents, provides a core example of the film industry’s use of stereotypes regarding gender and identity. The musical portrays the character Rose, played in the 1992 television film adaptation by Bette Midler as a business-centric, a pushy “stage-mother” who controls her children’s careers. Gypsy establishes a dependency relationship between Rose and her two children–Louise and June–and uses them as pawns to fulfill her desire of always being a star. While watching the musical, I didn’t resonate with many of the characters, but as I was reflecting, I could sense a bit of Louise within me.

Louise, played by Cynthia Gibb, is a shy little girl who her mother casts as is a boy in a vaudeville act with her sister June. Mama Rose doesn’t believe in Louise becoming much of a star and torments Louise for not being as good an actor as June. Yet, as Louise evolves into a young adult, her main goal is to fulfill her mother’s desire of performing on stage. I see a bit of me in Louise when she continuously sides with her mom, even though Rose put so much pressure on her growing up.  I am brought up in a modern South Asian family where my mom did not have as many opportunities growing up, and I would do anything to fulfill her wishes. June pisses me off because she can’t appreciate her mom’s harshness and resilience in getting their act booked, even if it wasn’t June’s passion.

Louise craved the satisfaction of fulfilling her mother’s dreams, and she did just that when she became a stripper. As a young girl, Louise wore cowboy clothes and draped herself in clothes that presented her as a young man. She echoed a shy young actor who didn’t enjoy speaking out because she was hiding her true self. As Louise grew older, she evolved into a stripper, which was such a big change in personality. Instantly having the added title of stripper, wearing lingerie, and dancing for the pleasure of others made her more famous than she would have been on the Vaudeville stage. It amazes me that men always put women on a pedestal when they remove their clothes and dance. Rose forced Louise’s hand into becoming a stripper, and once she did, she was proud of her. It was insane to see how Rose could give up the hope of Louise becoming a star and allow her daughter to become a stripper to progress her career. But in the end, Louise was content. Gypsy promotes the stereotype that being a successful a woman means having to flaunt one’s sexuality.

On the other hand, Rose’s other daughter June (played by Jennifer Rae Beck) shines like a bright star and does not care about Rose’s wishes for her. In “If Momma was Married,” June, sings: “If momma was married, we’d live in a house/ As private as private can be.”  No matter how much Rose works for her daughters, she will always fail in giving her daughters a stable life. Imagining that “if momma was married,” the girls hints that if Rose had a husband, they would be able to fulfill all their desires. This reinforces another stereotype: children must have a dominant male figure in their life to be successful and rich. June and Louise are so young, but they are already dreaming of growing up rich versus poor.

Louise’s eyes twinkle as she fantasizes about her mom being married and her being able to live with various pets, almost as if she yearns for her childhood innocence to come back. When Louise talks about having a family filled with animals, a father, and a mother, the film’s director creates an illusion through Louise’s smile, suggesting that she would be more happy in that life than her current one. Although Louise resents her childhood as a child actor because she was never the one that Rose believed in, she still sided with her mom over June, who only wishes that her mother would leave her alone. The audience can hear the anger building up in June because as her voice rises, almost as if she is passionate to show the world how badly her mother treated her. Though the two sisters have completely different perceptions of their mother, they hold each other’s hands to show agreement in their desire to see Rose to be remarried. While June has a negative reason behind getting her mom married because she wants to get rid of Rose, Louise can’t wait, almost as if she’s a baby getting a brand-new toy.

Women are always portrayed in a harsh light and are expected as pleasers in society. Gypsy proves how they stereotype women and portray them as submissive and willing to stoop to low levels to establish their crediblity. As a woman, especially as a South Asian woman, I find it difficult to locate a middle ground where I am not only fulfilling the wishes of my mom but finding something that I love doing. As women we have expectations from both society and family, we must unite to find a way to break the stereotype and create equality amongst all genders.

Is Gypsy Rose Lee the new symbol of Feminism?

It’s almost spooky season, and that means rewatching Bette Miller’s iconic role in the classic Halloween film Hocus Pocus. Whoops! Wrong spectacle.

Hocus Pocus GIF

However, her performance in the 1993 made-for-television production of Gypsy, directed by Emile Ardolino, is iconic in its own right. At face value, this production is not an aspirational spectacle for young girls, but hidden behind its curtain are a plethora of feminist critiques. Bette Miller is the perfect embodiment of loud, gregarious, strong-willed Mama Rose—complete with fiery red hair.

Rose embodies her role as stage mother, acting as a true “Mama Bear,” striving for the best for her two cubs June and Louise (who later becomes Gypsy Rose Lee). Rose dedicates her life to making her girls stars. The beginning of the film resembles many “wannabe” Broadway stars’ struggles to stardom. She begins as somewhat of a nobody in Seattle, Rose’s ambition rewards the girls with consequent gigs around the country at any Vaudeville theater that will have them. In her role as a mother, Rose defies the traditional gentle, dainty, proper female stereotypes in all aspects of her character.

1945 Modern Homemaker Magazine

Rose’s first solo number titled “Some People,” written by Jule Styne and lyricist Stephen Sondheim sets the stage, exhibiting her “go-getter” personality. Rose is not like “some people.” In fact, she is very much not like what a woman was “supposed” to be during the musical’s 1920s time period. As reminded by her father and future love interest quite often, she should be married (to a man, of course). The world expects her to have a steady family, with her children in school and her husband making money to support their family. She certainly should not be living in her Papa’s house as a middle-aged woman with two young daughters begging for eighty-eight bucks. In this regard, Rose’s character does not conform to social norms. At that time, it was unacceptable (or at least unusual) for a woman to have dreams beyond motherhood. While Rose is a devoted (albeit sometimes misguided) mother, her nurturing techniques are rather unconservative.

Rose has bigger dreams for her girls. Even when offered a hand in marriage to a man she arguably loves, she chooses the single route. Again, Rose defies gender stereotypes by denying what most would see as the obvious decision. The gender roles in Rose’s romantic relationship are almost reversed. Herbie, Rose’s love interest and agent, portrays the gentle, subversive partner, while Rose calls the shots. Herbie chases Rose, in this instance.

Mean Girls GIF

While Mama Rose is undoubtedly a strong female character, some of her parenting choices and treatment towards her daughters are questionable. At the beginning of the film, we see Baby June, played by Lacey Chabert (Chabert later stars as Gretchen in Mean Girls, truly embodying the role of “girly girl”) as the ideal, pageant queen, frilly, perfect female child performer. Her sister Louise, played by Elizabeth Moss, is there to ensure June shines on stage—whether that means dressing up as a cow or newspaper boy. Side note—June is in fact cast as a blonde and Louise as a brunette. I guess blondes do have more fun? Nevertheless, at the beginning of the film, Rose reinforces these role distinctions between her daughters, consistently doting on June, speaking words of confidence to her about her future stardom. Rose is so steadfast to follow her own path, why is she not more supportive of her daughters to defy the same gender norms she does?

The real kicker comes after older June (now played by Jennifer Raye Beck) decides to abandon both her mother and dreams of stardom to run off with a boy. Here we see another typical female giving up her dreams of a career (well, maybe they were Rose’s dreams for her) in the name of love. After Rose comes to terms with making Louise a star instead, the team arrives at a Burlesque theatre. While this rather mature theatre is surprising to the pure, innocent Louise (played by Cynthia Gibb), it is the place where she finds herself and her place in society.

Baby June and “Company”

Rewind to Baby June’s musical number titled “Let Me Entertain You.” Here we see an amusing, playful, childish upbeat song performed by Baby June. Dressed in a white, glittery, ballerina-like costume, with a bow almost as big as her head, June’s outfit paints her as an innocent, but talented little girl, somewhat like Shirley Temple. Were she a boy, she would not be able to capitalize on this aspect of her identity—or her female body. In this number, she refers to herself as a “bundle of dynamite,” highlighting her childlike demeanor. She then continues to boast about her ‘versatility’ and talents as well as her ability to make us feel good as she sings:

“I’m very versatile/ and if you’re real good/ I’ll make you feel good.”

Rose has June act younger than she is in the following scenes, having her continue to capitalize on her young female body (rather creepy in my opinion, having an adult pretending to be a young child). Viewed on its own, this song seems innocent enough, and simply explains June’s talent and ability to bring joy to her audiences.

Back at the Burlesque theater, Rose and Louise are both in shock when they see the audaciously unladylike performances occurring.

Louise’s face after watching her first “strip” act

Rose is so appalled she attempts to make a run for it until Louise convinces her they need the money from the gig. Louise does her first “striptease” act as a backup for a missing performer where the announcer mistakenly gives her the name “Gypsy Rose Lee.” This is the beginning of a transformation of Louise’s traditionally prude, conservative female characteristics to use her body and femininity in her performance. After Gypsy adjusts to the role of “stripper,” viewers see her fully embrace this new identity of herself. Rose has mixed feelings about seeing her baby girl act in such a provocative way.

This transformation makes us question what a female is supposed to be.

Should she be a prude? Married? Independent? Sexy? A Stripper?

Gypsy’s ending transforms Baby June’s original “Let me Entertain You” number into Gypsy’s signature act. This new context transforms the meaning of the song. Gypsy sings to a room of mostly older men hoping to see her take her clothes off. Her “versatility,” and “talents” convey added meaning, as does her ability to “make them feel good.” It’s sexual connotations could objectify Gypsy. However, the song helps Gypsy embody the same traits of independence and rejection of social norms as her mother. Rose may not fully approve, but this new identity—a truly new identity with a name change from Louise to Gypsy—is Gypsy’s own. She is no longer the “company” of Baby June.

“Gypsy brings
attention to taboo
topics such as
women using their
bodies to their
advantage”

But…. why is Gypsy’s only path to fame one of objectification and capitalization of her feminity? In this way, the movie reaffirms traditional female gender norms which emphasize physicality and beauty. Nevertheless, Gypsy not only brings attention to taboo topics such as stripping and the complexity of women using their bodies to their advantage. The musical explores the nuances within the traditionally female stereotype and makes viewers question their initial assumptions. Women are continually and regularly objectified and used for their bodies, but when they do it on their own accord, society labels them a “whore.” Shouldn’t a woman be able to be whoever and whatever she wants? I wouldn’t call Gypsy Rose the new face of the feminist movement, give her some credit for helping us consider these themes in a Broadway musical.

Thanks for reading 🙂

The Male Gaze and Gypsy (1993)

Transformations intrigue us. We gasp at the Very Hungry Caterpillar’s metamorphosis as children, fixate on before and after diet photos, and unhealthily pore over Breaking Bad character analyses for days (I’m guilty of the latter). And just like Walter White’s becoming of Heisenberg, Louise Hovick’s development into the titular Gypsy Rose Lee sparks interest. What prompts this change? What does this transformation say about her character and her environment? 

Gypsy: A Memoir (1957)

Gypsy (1959 Stage Musical)

Gypsy (1993 TV Film Musical)

Director Emile Ardolino adapted the television film musical of Gypsy from the 1959 stage musical (which in turn took inspiration from Gypsy Rose Lee’s autobiography). With music by Jule Styne and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, Gypsy tracks the transformation of Louise Hovick from the shy, oft-overlooked sister of vaudeville headliner June to a bold, independent burlesque star. With that established, let’s try to answer the aforementioned questions.

First, what prompts this change? Easy: Madame Rose, Louise’s mother, volunteers her as a replacement for the main stripper because she believes it is a breakout opportunity. Louise, although initially unconfident, grows more comfortable as she receives (gross as it is to say) “support” from the burlesque theater audience. As Louise recognizes that she can play this role successfully, she capitalizes on it to become a burlesque star. 

What does this transformation say about her character and her environment? This question is much harder to answer. Gypsy Rose Lee clearly empowers herself by embracing her sexuality, and throws aside traditional notions of demure femininity as defined by the patriarchy. However, despite the decline of this form of stage entertainment, burlesque theater is still popular enough for Gypsy to succeed… a popularity which suggests more insidious elements. Although a message of triumph, Louise’s transformation to Gypsy Rose Lee also presents a sad truth: the influence of the male gaze, and more broadly, the power of a patriarchal society. 

A satirized example of the male gaze from the Hawkeye Initiative.*

Coined by Laura Mulvey, the “male gaze” refers to a heterosexual perspective that objectifies women in a sexual manner. Succeeding in popular media, especially in the early-to-mid 20th century, with a large – if not majority – heterosexual, male audience, meant catering to this male gaze.

Gypsy implicitly brings up the male gaze in an earlier dialogue between Louise and Tulsa, a boy that coworks in June’s act. When explaining the reasoning for why he tries to dance more than his female partner for a nightclub routine, Tulsa opines, “They always look at the girl in a dance team, especially if she’s pretty.” Tulsa is subconsciously aware of the male gaze – catering to a probably very male nightclub audience. Yet still wanting to be the main lead, Tulsa believes he must dance more. 

“They always look at the girl in a dance team, especially if she’s pretty.”

-Tulsa

Bette Midler playing Madame Rose in “Rose’s Turn” actively caters to the male gaze. She realizes the her desire to be a star manifests unhealthily in her aggressive pursuit of fame for her children. Madame Rose plays in an empty theater and objectifies herself to an imaginary audience (uncomfortable as it is for the viewers). She draws attention to her breasts (“How do you like them eggrolls, Mr. Goldstone?”), accentuates her body through suggestive movements, and refers to herself as “Mama” in a sultry voice. Madame Rose, despite playing for an imaginary audience, anticipates needing to cater to the male gaze. Both this and Tulsa’s example illustrate that the male gaze is ever-present, that it insidiously underpins popular media. Although the actors don’t explicitly recognize this male gaze, they knowingly create products for a majority-male audience, and by doing so, give hegemonic power, or consent, to patriarchal society. 

Louise

Gypsy Rose Lee

Louise’s quick shift from passive, shy girl into confident, independent woman also illustrates this power. Louise embraces her sexuality to gain personal agency as a burlesque star. And just like Tulsa and Madame Rose, she recognizes the male gaze and its power in patriarchal society – after all, she is a stripper. Such a contradiction could be confusing – that she empowers herself through her sexuality, yet that patriarchal society exploits her. While Louise does find empowerment, it is only through her sexuality; that is, within the confines of patriarchal society. 

So what? Although this movie carries a message of triumph and self-empowerment, it still reminds viewers that we live in a hegemonic patriarchal society which we perpetuate. And just like Louise, Tulsa, and Madame Rose, we support its hegemonic power in some way, whether it be normalizing the male gaze in popular media, or accepting stereotypical, restrictive gender roles for women in everyday life. 

And as a heterosexual, Korean-American male, that reminder is especially noteworthy. Not only did society teach me these problematic gender narratives as universal truths, but I also at one point believed them. And as I grow more aware of our society, it’s becoming increasingly important to ask: is this belief, or truth?

Footnotes:

*While researching the male gaze, I was introduced to this phenomenon through this article. The Hawkeye Initiative is a website made “to draw attention to how deformed, hypersexualized, and unrealistically dressed women are drawn in comics…” (FAQ).

Pantsuits versus Lingerie: How Gyspy Subverts Beliefs About Women’s Power

By Hayden Paige

When I came to college, did I ever imagine writing an essay (that I would be submitting to a literal professor) singing the praises of stripping? Not in the slightest. But is that what this essay will be about? Yes. Yes, it will.

“Misogynistic” is the term most people would use to describe sexy dancing or envision women getting almost naked on a theatrical stage to please horny men. These men clearly are objectifying women as sexual objects rather than seeing them as multidimensional beings. Yet, the 1993 made-for-television musical Gypsy challenges the idea that embracing one’s sexuality is inherently misogynist. Instead, Gypsy highlights the way females can deploy their sexuality to gain power.

Louise dons a cow costume in the film adaption of “Gypsy” on BroadwayHD.

This musical film follows Rose, the archetype of the domineering stage mother, as she pushes her daughters, June and Louise, to perform vaudeville acts out of her misguided desire for fame. It is obvious that Rose strays pretty far from the ideals of traditional femininity, as she rejects the ideals of marriage, yells at the men around her, and often employs brazen vocals. While my grandmother might rebuke such “unladylike” behavior, I do not find it troublesome. My issue with Rose is that she desperately attempts to enforce her own beliefs about sexuality on her children. To achieve what she believes will lead to success in show business, Rose forces her daughters to essentially suppress their burgeoning sexuality by pressuring them to act more youthful and, in Louise’s case, perform with a masculine appearance. It is problematic to tell women to suppress their sexuality or femininity as a means to gain power because it reinforces the idea that acting feminine is inferior. It suggests that those who embrace their femininity and sexuality are less empowered. However, women should not have to wash away their femininity to be taken seriously. Through Bob Mackie’s excellent costume design, Louise’s costumes become less and less feminine as she grows older. Starting with a more gender-neutral clown costume as a young child, she then must dress like the other boys on stage wearing trousers and overalls when performing behind June. Her loose pants and shirt buttoned all the way to her neck prevents people from viewing her silhouette. The cow costume she ultimately wears strips away any semblance of her figure.

Cynthia Gibbs, who portrays Louise, excels at revealing the pressure Rose places on her to act masculine in their vaudeville but also how Louise has internalized her stage persona and translated it into her real life. When wearing these costumes, she seems unsure of herself. The suppression of Louise’s sexuality is not just performed on stage but also permeates her everyday life. In their initial Vaudeville performance of the song “Let Me Entertain You,” Gibbs’ dancing appears highly robotic. She is stiff and unsure in her movements as she marches and waves her arm in front of her. Gibb’s constrained movements highlight the lack of freedom the character Louise has under the control of her mother, who essentially forces her into a masculine appearance. Later, when they enter the burlesque theatre, Rose calls the strippers “filth” before she realizes how she can benefit from the situation. This word choice highlights Rose’s belief that flaunting one’s sexuality is somehow dirty. Rose wants Louise to mask her sexuality as she believes showing it off will make her lose her respect and dignity. Herbie even walks out on Rose because he disagrees with Rose encouraging her daughter to essentially reduce herself in front of men.

Louise explores her sexuality in the film adaption of “Gypsy” on BroadwayHD.

Only when Louise truly embraces her sexuality does she transition into a more confident, empowered woman. When she dons a dress for the first time at the strip club, I felt like I was watching someone who just had cosmetic facial and breast enlargement surgery look at themself for the first time after the bandages have come off. I could feel the sexual tension between Cynthia Gibbs and the mirror. As she caresses her body, Gibbs’ choice to take a slight, not-so-subtle pause when holding her breasts highlights her newfound sense of identity as a woman. Jule Styne’s musical score perfectly reinforces Louise’s shift in self-image, as the soft violin music in the background oscillates at a high pitch, increasing feelings of tension. Then, the sound of a bell kicks, symbolizing her freedom. In high school, the ringing of the bell would mean I would finally be free from the horrors of calculus. By playing on these associations of a bell with freedom, Styne reveals the freedom Louise feels now that she has escaped her mother’s influence and can embrace her sexuality.

The dichotomy between the different performances of “Let Me Entertain You” convey the newfound empowerment Louise gains as she taps into her femininity and sensuality. In Gibb’s portrayal of Louise, the viewer can clearly observe how she gains ownership of her body. Her stiff, robotic movements from the past routine are gone; once dressed in a more feminine mannor, she begins to move much more naturally. Through Jerome Robbin’s choreographic expertise, she now exhibits greater musicality as she dances burlesque onstage. With shoulder rolls and shaking hips, Gibbs portrays Louise as being able to exhibit a more fine-tuned control over her movements. The link between the more sensual dancing and Louise’s bodily authority speaks to the way in which tapping into her femininity has granted her this greater autonomy.

Additionally, Louise begins to project her voice, a demonstration of her confidence in what she has to say. Sondheim’s lyrics in Louise’s new performance of “Let Me Entertain You” further highlight her empowerment. Louise states that she is “not a stripper” but rather “an ecdysiast, [which] is one who,/ or that which,/ sheds its skin.” While at first, I thought such language was just Louise’s excuse to avoid the stigma of stripping; but upon further inspection, I recognized the difference between being a stripper and ecdysiast. The term stripper evokes ideas of someone just taking off their clothes or “stripping” away part of them, reducing them in essence. Meanwhile, an ecdysiast “sheds its skin,” which implies that there is a new layer underneath. Rather than taking away part of oneself by stripping, the character of Louise views herself as taking off the old part of herself to expose new skin. Such nuances reveal how Louise sheds her more tomboyish persona in favor of tapping into a new part of herself. Rather than simply donning a new costume to perform her sexuality, she shows a part of herself that always existed but was just waiting to be revealed.

Director Emile Ardolino’s choice for Rose to hang the cow head in her daughter’s dressing room further speaks to this idea of using a costume as a sort of mask of one’s true self. Gibbs’ eyes glare as she firmly demands that her maid to take it down, emphasizing the repulsiveness Louise feels with this stark reminder of a time when she had to cover up her feminine identity. Just like she changed her name to “Gypsy Rose Lee,” Louise continues to reject what her mother laid on her. Now, Louise favors stripping, which she feels is the most honest, “stripped down” version of herself. As a burlesque performer, Louise has the autonomy to choose what she does or does not want to show, thus taking back the power of her own body.

For such a long time, like Louise, I would cover up. My high school dress code specifically stated that no “sexual-looking” clothing was allowed. We had to completely cover our shoulders, cleavage, stomachs, and thighs at all times. The dress code instilled within me a belief that I needed to maintain what they referred to as a “professional appearance” to be taken seriously. I remember Ms. Letchworth explicitly complimenting me for wearing a t-shirt under one of my dresses to show less skin, literally telling thirteen-year-old me that I looked so much more “respectable” than some of my peers who were “pushing the limits.” Yet, as I got to college, I came to the realization that people telling me what to wear to prevent me from being objectified felt just as misogynist. Thus, I was very impressed that Gypsy, despite the original book being written in 1959, created a progressive representation of sexuality, that women do not have to choose between embracing their sexuality and feeling empowered. Instead, Gypsy reveals how women can be both feminine and powerful.