Women Gazing at Scotsmen

November 22nd, 2014

Disclaimer: Let me preface this by admitting that I am not a lover of historic fiction (quite the opposite) nor of violence on screen (least of all graphically depicted). Also, I dismiss most any work because of its depiction of rape, since those depictions can be problematic and are not usually very nuanced. After reading Naomi Wolf's "Vagina" I am even more aware of how problematic the usual depiction is. I am a lover of science fiction, and if I read romance, it is usually accompanied by some sort of lizard (you know who I mean, this lizard makes everything better). I do have a thing for men in skirts though, as long as those are properly fitted and not too long. But I will take a kilt if that's the only thing on offer.

On to the "reviewing": we should start this by reading this article that convinced me I should watch Outlander. And oh, how this article hits the nail right on its head! You should also read this Salon article, because it is even better than that HuffPost one and it references an amazing article I had to read for my first term at uni. Also, penises. And thank you Mr. Dinklage and Mr. Harington for your gracious offer! I hope they take you up on it, then there might still be a chance that I'll start watching Game of Thrones.

Before this turns into me describing the physical attributes of the male lead of Outlander (fuck Men's Health, where can I get a Heughan of my own?), I should just point out that watching the series was eye-opening. It was also, as a former boyfriend (one of my favourites actually) once whispered to me "horror for vegans" when a tiny lamb was taken to be prepared for stew in the otherwise excellent movie "The American" (Clooney with very little clothes, the brilliant Violante Placido who is such a good and beautiful actor I nearly didn't look at Clooney, Dutch director Anton Corbijn, go watch it). In Outlander it was a boar-hunt and there was boar-revenge, but this only increased the level of horror. There are lots of things that are perhaps a bit of an acquired taste for one usually watching many races of people (from aforementioned lizards to my beloved Vulcans) being supremely evolved space-faring vegans. But as long as I get a kilt on Jamie that has on occasion been draped very enticingly over his all too perfectly sculpted legs, well, then I am willing to forgive almost anything. I might even be willing to forgive the series its complete and utter whiteness. I guess that is just the deal in the Scottish highlands (though if we are being this historically accurate, then I want shockingly hairy women and men) in the 18th century. But I look forward to a series with the same consideration for its female viewers that is not so uniformly white in its casting choices. What I am basically saying is: more Srgt. Fidel Best (this is a personal request, I would not be opposed to a towel as a Caribbean alternative to the kilt) and more Srgt. Camille Bordey looking at the awkward tall skinny British dude (this is a more general equal-rights-for-all demand).

Why is Outlander so important? Because it offers a new perspective on things. Why do I often feel, when watching it, as if I should look away, or am so overexcited that I make an embarrassing squealing noise? Well, I have no defense for Kirk-or-above-level-gorgeous-óverload in a setting where I don't have to force the gaze my way (as I have to with Kirk). When everything is simply displayed with someone of my gender and sexual orientation in mind, I am both captivated, obsessively excited and confused because it is such a new and unusual experience. The Salon-article was right, I am a scavenger used to taking images and framing them differently in my mind for my own nefarious purposes of sexual excitement. But with this I don't have to.

I had not realized that for (most straight) men, all media feels like watching Daniel Day-Lewis lick Gordon Warnecke. All of it, all time, for no reason at all. I have to search for these tiny snippets of excitement, or think really hard to objectify Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now (easier said than done, but doable). Or I am forced to find solace in terrible movies like Underworld: Rise of the Lycans to see a more easily objectifiable Michael Sheen (no relation, but begging for objectification). It's not even that I'm saying that you men should be objectified, trust me, I know how it feels, I would not wish it on anybody. It's just that sometimes, every once in a very little while, I'd like to be able to look at a man simply because he is exciting, aesthetically pleasing and mine for the visual taking, because of his body and the depiction thereof, and not because I should be impressed by how much of a well-thought-out boob-gazing protagonist and deep-thinking intelligent character he is! Knowing that there are no underpants underneath the kilt, that's all I ask for (to quote one of the English in Outlander: "The question of the kilt shall remain an enigma!"). I have read that there is still a wedding-night episode in store for me. To be honest, I have trouble focusing on anything else.

Ps. Hockey was once a brutal game more scary than mixed martial art is today! Haaaahahaha.

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