Is The Bechdel Test an Effective Assessment of Representation?
Pulled from “The Rule,” a strip from Alison Bechdel’s Dykes To Look Out For, The Bechdel Test assesses the representation of women in a given film: the film must have at least two female characters, they must have a conversation, and the topic of said conversation must not be a man. Future iterations of The Bechdel Test stipulate that the female characters must be named. Upon analyzing The Bechdel Test, a problem emerges. Certain scholars, including Jennifer O’Meara, feel that the test is exceedingly basic and should not be used for serious analysis. “In certain ways,” she says, “The Bechdel Test is more likely to conceal than reveal” (O’Meara 1121). She argues that flat representations of women could pass the test while an empowering one-sided speech falls short. In contrast, others feel that The Bechdel Test provides a non-subjective, palatable assessment of female representation in cinema. Scott Selisker applauds the test for having “a more objective, data-oriented quality than do interpretations regarding the political valences of representations of women” (Selisker 518). He notes the complex networks of social interaction present in fiction and theorizes that it is the position of women within these networks that is the problem. Other thinkers set these controversies aside and use The Bechdel Test to assess the modern media landscape. Tyler White, Dr. Jay Hamilton, and Dr. Catherine Mulder conjecture that observance of Bechdel’s criteria has little effect on box office earnings while Andrew M. Lindner, Melissa Lindquis, and Julie Arnold see the downfall of female-led films tied to limited funding. Different applications of The Bechdel Test lead to varying impressions of female representation in the media, how it falls short, and how it succeeds.
Before delving into scenarios of The Bechdel Test’s effectiveness, it is important to note the assessment’s flaws. Jennifer O’Meara, in What “The Bechdel Test” Doesn’t Tell Us, places emphasis on the simplicity of the test and how, even while speaking, women in cinema can be disempowered. She criticizes the meager expectations held for the portrayal of females, worrying that “despite good intentions… [we] may actually legitimize low, one-dimensional standards for women’s verbal and vocal representation” (1121). O’Meara drives this claim further, referencing various other qualities of dialogue ignored by The Bechdel test. In addition to having names and conversing independently of men, female characters might be positively portrayed through phrasing, setting, timing, and other filmmaking elements. How their words are treated by other characters also has an important effect; O’Meara comments that “women in film are frequently attributed unreliable speech, punished for talking, or silenced altogether” (1120). These degrading instances are irrelevant within the parameters of The Bechdel test. Context and nuances carry no weight in its assessment of female representation. By emphasizing the incomprehensive nature of “The Rule,” Jennifer O’Meara diminishes its credibility and pushes for a more exhaustive analysis of women in cinema.
In Profit & Representation: A Closer Look at Box Office Revenue and The Bechdel Test, Tyler White, Dr. Jay Hamilton, and Dr. Catherine Mulder reveal a similar weakness of the assessment. The group gathered data on the top 100 highest grossing movies of all time and applied the parameters of The Bechdel Test. While viewing the films, they noted cases of gross sexualization, non-existent dialogue, manipulation, and other unsavory depictions of women. A specific example is given from the 1963 film Cleopatra. “For all that Cleopatra brings to the discussion of powerful women, her power and ambitious plans are highly reliant on the manipulation of various men of power” (White 1262). Although the film passes the test, its titular character achieves various goals through seduction and exploitation. This negative image of a female leader has no effect on the film’s ability to meet The Bechdel Test’s simple parameters. After analyzing each of the films in the data pool, White, Hamilton, and Mulder found that a film’s compliance with The Bechdel Test has little to no effect on its viability in the box office. “One possible explanation of this finding,” they conclude, “may be that audience members respond more to the quality of character development than the number of characters present from underrepresented groups” (1273). This postulation aligns with O’Meara’s critique; the limits of The Bechdel Test basely categorize films by their minimal representation of women.
Box Office Success
Within their application of The Bechdel Test, White, Hamilton, and Mulder suggest a comprehensive reason for the lack of female representation’s influence in the box office. They state that content analysis of films “may show a correlation between revenue and quality representation” (1275). This theory, further explored, provides a case for the effect of complex representation on Hollywood earnings.
Initially, as seen in the previous study, The Bechdel Test has no strong positive or negative relation to profitability. In rebuttal, in Million Dollar Maybe? The Effect of Female Presence in Movies on Box Office Returns, Andrew M. Lindner, Melissa Lindquist, and Julie Arnold concentrate their analysis of film earnings on female representation alone. They take steps to eliminate other profit-affecting factors: celebrity stars, distribution label, existence in a franchise, genre, and more. As a result, their conclusion is that “the majority of popular movies lack an independent female presence” (Lindner 420). This conclusion is disappointing to both scholars and common feminists. However, once the production budget is included in the equation, the applicability of The Bechdel Test becomes clear. In framing The Bechdel Test as the study’s independent variable, it is argued that “with any more rigorous measure of gender equality, passing would be so rare as to limit variation to the point where meaningful analysis would not be possible” (417). This statement reinvigorates the credibility of the assessment. Therefore, when it is revealed that female-led films have smaller budgets, leading them to be less profitable, the disappointing origin of oppression becomes more credible. Because The Bechdel Test is so simplistic, the entertainment industry’s aversion to satisfying the requirements is saddening. Additionally, “[their] analysis indicates Bechdel movies perform worse not because the public rejects stories about women downstream, but rather because of upstream practices that make it less likely for female characters to have a life independent of men in big budget movies” (425). This conclusion places the blame for underrepresentation on systematically enforced ideas rather than the consumer. The Bechdel Test’s reputation of weakness is rightful, but unnecessarily discussed; without more comprehensive representation, comprehensive analysis is futile.
Women in Social Networks
In their initial content analysis, Lindner, Lindquist, and Arnold place emphasis on the core issue revealed by The Bechdel Test: “Women are underrepresented in film, and when present, are often secondary characters in male-centric stories” (409). This claim places women in subordination to men, a historical constant. Rather than place the blame on consumers and their habits, however, the authors target structures of oppression. They note that, regardless of the relative equality females enjoy in the twenty-first century, mediamakers have ignored their shift in societal status. Although they do not delve much further into the position of women in social and character networks, research into the topic is extremely compelling and relevant to The Bechdel Test’s importance.
In The Bechdel Test and the Social Form of Character Networks, Scott Selisker uses The Bechdel Test to identify and question the social position of female characters in fiction. He discovers that women often fill an intermediary role for men; they are lovers, objects of dispute, and used for the benefit of male connection. Selisker then communicates the importance of a social network. The role of a character changes depending on the quantity of connections they have with others. Their position among others denotes their importance. “The female character isolated near the center of a network,” Selisker states, “often serves as a prop for a central male character’s actualization” (515). With knowledge of this claim, it becomes easier to acknowledge the importance of The Bechdel Test. It questions whether female representation exists to expand the character network or to act as an intermediary between men. Additionally, this quote draws connections between the simplistic Bechdel Test and modern feminist critiques of cinematic stereotypes; the “manic pixie dream girl,” for instance, is a character that The Bechdel Test would discredit. By extending such a simple assessment of representation to a larger question of character networks, Selisker affirms the applicability of The Bechdel Test.
Although it greatly depends on the circumstance, The Bechdel Test provides a concise baseline for assessing a film’s representation of women. It can be limiting and is not widely subscribed to, evident by the underfunding of female-led cinema, but it motivates the eventual depiction of strong, independent women.
Unnecessary Aspiration: The Adequacy of The Bechdel Test
As the media landscape of the twenty-first century expands, proper representation of social and cultural groups becomes increasingly integral. One tool for ensuring this representation is The Bechdel Test. Derived from Alison Bechdel’s comic strip Dykes To Watch Out For, it is a set of rules assessing the presence of women in a given film; to pass The Bechdel Test, a film must contain two female characters who have a conversation about something other than a man. With standards for representation increasing, some wonder if The Bechdel Test is an effective assessment; many argue that it oversimplifies the presence of women onscreen. However, when taking into consideration the meager compliance with female representation by current media makers, a more complex metric is unnecessary. The underfunding of female-led films, the sparse presence of women in character networks, and the limited observance of The Bechdel Test affirm that progress is necessary before a more comprehensive test of female representation is.
Undeniably, profit is a central factor in any industry. Entertainment is no exception; production companies allocate the most funding to their most financially promising projects. Big-budget films have the resources for celebrity casts, effective marketing, and other elements to aid success. Therefore, underfunded films tend to have lower financial performance. According to a study conducted by Andrew M. Lindner, Melissa Lindquist, and Julie Arnold, chronicled in Million Dollar Maybe? The Effect of Female Presence in Movies on Box Office Returns, female characters in a film affect the amount of funding it receives. Mediocre box-office performance is often used to justify the lack of female-led films, but Linder, Lindquist, and Arnold found that “holding all else constant, whpendent female presence, those movies perform as well as others” (Linder 424). This data proves that the success of films containing strong female characters, and likely passing The Bechdel Test, is contained by industry bias. In attempting to protect their finances, titans of the entertainment industry provide “systematically smaller production budgets for Bechdel movies” (424). This tendency reveals the true issue facing female representation in film: inherent bias against the viability of women’s stories. Industry prejudice cannot be solved by independent female characters. Rather than focussing on a new metric for the measure of female representation, critics of The Bechdel Test would benefit from turning their attention to the funding issues facing female-led films.
Although it seems like a simple trio of rules, The Bechdel Test reveals an extremely important point about a given film: womens’ positions within the character network. Scott Selisker, in The Bechdel Test and the Social Form of Character Networks, delves into the idea of mapping the social world of media through networks. In this exploration, he identifies that a woman’s position in these networks is often intermediary; female characters are often seen “serving as points through which to triangulate male-to-male desire or power” and as “passive vehicle[s]” through which a man’s story can be accelerated (Selisker 511). These claims clarify the importance of each of The Bechdel Test’s facets. First, the presence of two women ensures female existence in the social network. Next, a conversation between them creates connections within that network. Finally, if that conversation does not revolve around the men in the story, the female characters have transcended intermediary status. For those who believe that The Bechdel Test is a limiting assessment of female representation, it would be valuable to view the test as an inquiry into womens’ position within character networks. Expanding these positions will lead to more developed roles and connections for women, satisfying those who see passing The Bechdel Test as the bare minimum for a feminist film.
Before a more comprehensive test of media’s female representation is necessary, The Bechdel Test must be universally abided by. In studies referenced by Linder, Lindquist, and Arnold, it was found that “only about half of all films pass the [Bechdel] test” (Linder 409). Additionally, in an assessment of all G-rated films released from 1990 to 2005, “72 percent of the characters were male, and of the films with narrators, 83 percent were male” (409). The clear underrepresentation of women in film is jarring; even in children’s movies, designed to entertain and educate young minds, female characters are flagrantly outnumbered by male ones. These statistics illustrate that, although The Bechdel Test is very simple, it is far from standardized. The downfalls of The Bechdel Test are not worth solving until the test is universally abided by; the complexity and quality of female representation have no purpose unless female characters are universally included in media. Those who criticize The Bechdel test for its meager requirements have valid concerns. However, increased inclusivity in the entertainment industry is still necessary before these concerns have any weight.
In the entertainment industry, there is a clear bias towards men; films including complex, independent women are underfunded and far from commonplace. The Bechdel Test, providing simple parameters for assessing female representation in the media, has become essential for combating this bias. Some debate the effectiveness of the test, claiming that the criteria are inadequate and vouching for a more comprehensive system. However, made clear by the analysis of female representation’s effect on box-office returns, character networks, along with the disproportionate number of women on screen, The Bechdel Test’s simplicity is adequate for today’s standards of feminist media. Speaking optimistically, those who refute this claim will eventually be correct; although The Bechdel Test is currently sufficient, one can hope that the baseline of female representation will, in time, exceed twenty-first-century conventions.
