Rage. The OED defines ‘rage’ as a ‘violent uncontrollable anger’, considered to be one of our most powerful, overwhelming emotions. When promoting her film ‘The Menu’, Anya Taylor-Joy disagreed with her director’s (Mark Mylod) vision for her character’s sad, subdued reaction to a “man doing really terrible things.” Instead, she proposed an angry and aggressive reaction, a stunning performance of feminine rage that did, in fact, make it to the final cut. The concept of feminine rage as its own violent, cathartic force is hugely present in contemporary pop culture; films such as ‘Gone Girl (2014)’ and ‘Promising Young Woman’ (2020), as well as the wildly popular Olivia Rodrigo album, ‘Sour’ and even Pom Pom Squad’s ‘Death of a Cheerleader’ are all examples of a general intrigue with angry women. But where does this idea come from? What does it mean, if anything, about the media we consume?
The concept of feminine rage has existed in literature for millennia. Famous examples date back to the classical period – Euripedes’ ‘Medea’ and Clytemnestra in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, are great examples. In these plays, vindictive, vengeful women enact revenge against deceitful and treacherous men. The modern examples above echo this trope. In ancient literature, female rage appears to be strongly linked to the concept of hysteria; a distinctly female form of madness that the ancient Greeks believed to be caused by the womb wandering around the body. Within this ancient concept of female rage, the “angry woman” is considered dangerous. To those whose power she threatens, she is deranged. Furthermore, the classical idea that madness is caused by a fault in the female reproductive organs, suggests that a ‘deranged’, ‘hysterical’ woman, is a woman who is not fulfilling what the ancients saw as her biological ‘purpose’. For centuries, male writers have sought to diminish female agency and de-legitimise female anger by presenting the enraged woman as ‘hysterical’ in this way. Nevertheless, these “mad-women” from the ancient world continue to captivate modern audiences, as more recent interpretations of ancient narratives have afforded women the more complex characterisation that was often previously only confined to male actors. Many modern adaptations of ‘Medea’ and ‘Agamemnon’ offer sympathetic depictions of Medea and Clytemnestra, who are both victims of wicked men as well as perpetrators of violence themselves. This particularly applies to Medea, whose murder of her own children defies the sanctity of motherhood, her ‘purpose’ as a woman.
Though these depictions were most likely intended to portray women’s emotions as violent and dangerous, the moral ambiguities of feminine rage tend to be welcomed by 21st century audiences. This curiosity about the power of feminine rage is often viewed by feminists as liberating, however it is important to consider the conventions that dominate modern representations of feminine rage.
Firstly, the majority of depictions of feminine rage in film involve white women, such as in ‘Promising Young Woman’ and ‘Gone Girl’. Many black feminists have been critical of the ways that white women are given access to an angry self-expression whereas women of colour are usually barred from this kind of emotion on screen.
Secondly, a significant amount of feminine rage media involves a woman’s enraged response to the wrongdoings of a man in a heterosexual relationship, relying on heteronormative gender dynamics for the plot; in order for a woman to be enraged, her reasons must revolve around a man.
Considering this, I ask: have modern portrayals of female rage really moved on from the classical depiction of an ancient, hysterical woman? When analysed closely, despite the best intentions of female directors, a conventionally attractive white woman looking sexy while enacting her horrific revenge fantasies almost always end up being perceived through the male gaze. As Margaret Atwood said, ‘Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy’. Even the most violent, cathartic expressions of rage in media created by women are ultimately swallowed up by the domineering male gaze. In order to be sympathetic, a woman must be palatable, which ultimately means feminine rage hardly ever is able to be shown in its raw, natural state the way male violence is. A woman being truly angry on screen the way men are, in an unattractive, genuinely cruel way, would involve a complete disregard for beauty standards and everything that makes a woman’s uninhibited presence tolerable on screen. In order to be visible, a female creator cannot tip the balance of power. An angry woman on screen cannot be truly liberated without upsetting this balance.
Nevertheless, feminine rage in media produced by women deserves its place in the cultural zeitgeist. For years, men have been able to enjoy the catharsis of watching other men enact their horrible, violent fantasies towards women in almost every genre of film, music and literature. Feminine rage media allows an outlet for an expression of emotion that continues to be villainized by society. As with all things, the vilification of women’s art comes from fear; the cathartic war cry of Olivia Rodrigo’s ‘good 4 u’ is belittled as a silly girly pop song, and the bitter, cunning battle for liberation in ‘Gone Girl’ (2014) is mocked for being a personality trait of “tote bag sad girls”. While liberation from the male gaze is nearly impossible in popular culture, the presence of the feminine rage genre is a valid and an important part of modern media. It deserves to be legitimised to the same extent as the media that acts as an expression of male anger.
The more we choose to validate and legitimise female emotion, the further away we get from the classical image of a hysterical, villainous woman whose erratic behaviour is the result of a faulty reproductive system; a woman unfit for her “purpose” as the Ancient Greeks saw it. As Audre Lorde said, ‘rage is integral to rebellion’. Thus, the first step to liberation is anger, and the first step towards anger is acceptance of its power over us.