An Opinion on Red Sparrow
By: Abrianna Morales
After watching the 2018 movie Red Sparrow, there's much to be considered: graphic depictions of sexual assault, trigger warnings, and how our culture still tends to sexualize rape and criminal sexual assault within the media. This article takes a look at these aspects of the movie and what we should expect from the entertainment industry, and ourselves.
The movie, Red Sparrow, released in March, follows the story of Dominika Egorova, a famous Russian ballerina who works to support her sick mother. After a career-devastating injury, Dominika is forced out of work and is tasked with seducing a person of interest for the Russian government, in exchange for her mother’s medical treatment. Dominika eventually is forced to become a “sparrow” (a spy operative that seduces her targets) for the Russian government. Subsequently, she becomes a double agent for the United States and frames the man that essentially forced her into Russian espionage (her uncle).
Just reading the summary, the movie appears to be reminiscent of a James Bond movie, or Atomic Blonde (2017). It reads as if the strong female protagonist takes complete control of her situation, looking and acting “sexy,” the whole time.
Just reading the summary, I decided to watch this movie a week or so after it was released into theatres. I remember looking for trigger warnings and content guides, just to be certain that I could handle what was in the movie—and I didn’t find anything beyond complaints about Jennifer Lawrence’s poor Russian accent. I assumed that I could handle it, that I would be okay.
I sat down in the theatre and watched, interested in the plot. Then Jennifer Lawrence’s character was violently raped onscreen. Of course, it was upsetting to watch—I teared up and felt severely uncomfortable, but I figured that I could stand it, so I kept watching. As the movie progressed, the graphic depictions of sexual abuse continued, and I eventually had to leave the theatre completely. I was shaking, crying, and very confused. I remember being upset with myself for being bothered by the scenes: “You should be over this,” I thought. “How did a movie disrupt you so severely? You’re stronger than this.”
The reality is, though, that these sorts of feelings can come back without warning, and they’re not signifiers of weakness. Even though I had not personally experienced the exact situations portrayed onscreen, they still applied to me—because I knew what it felt like to experience that level of terror, fear, and violation. Even though I logically was able to distinguish there was no threat to my safety in that movie theatre, my tears and worry were a neurological reaction to trauma, and they were beyond my control.
And that’s okay.
After reading some reviews later that day, then later that month, and finally, about a week ago, I was a little surprised. I figured that maybe somebody out there had an experience like me, or that some other person watching was also a little confused about the really graphic rape scenes without a trigger warning or even a mention of it in the plot summary. I found more bad reviews about Jennifer Lawrence’s performance than I did about the content of the movie, and when I did find criticisms of the content, I found discussions like this:
“Fake Russian accent (and not even one sentence in Russian!), the worst acting and the most embarrassing sex scene I have ever seen on screen…”
“Career suicide for both Jennifer Lawrence and Francis Lawrence, her Russian accent is poor and even becomes American during the running time, the sex scenes are weird and disturbing”
“If you’re into brutally violent porn that somehow manages to be completely unsexy and tedious, go ahead and waste your money. But there’s more compelling trash on porn hub”
Most of the reviews talk about how poor the Russian accent is, and for good reason: it isn’t the best. But, surprisingly, of the reviews that frame and discuss the graphic onscreen rape and sexual abuse, they recognize it only as “embarrassing,” or “weird” sex, and even compare it to “porn.”
This is troubling to me, not because I was upset that nobody seemed to be as shaken up by the content as I was, but because the content at hand was still being examined from two sides: as sex, or as rape. Two very different things. As I’ve said before, this movie is outwardly presented as a tale of female empowerment. The strong female protagonist is such a “badass” that she can face anything, take control, and be sexy the entire time. And really, there’s nothing wrong with this narrative. The issue is that this narrative very openly uses rape, coercion, and sexual violence as a plot device—sexualizing and commodifying it for entertainment of the viewer.
And sexual assault, in reality, is not entertaining. It doesn’t always happen in luxurious hotel rooms, with women in black lingerie who are trained seductress-spies, the victim isn’t always saved at the last second by a team of assassins, nor do they have the opportunity to flip the script and take charge of the situation at the end. In reality, sexual assault can happen anywhere, to anyone, wearing anything, and they might not ever find justice.
In reality, even though Jennifer Lawrence’s character is presented as a strong, sexy, spy, she is still a sexual assault survivor. She was still raped, and no persona, line of work, or characteristic will ever change that. She wasn’t “asking for it,” or leading anyone on. She was, and is, a person. Just like every other survivor out there.
I’m not writing this to say that media should never display sexual assault or rape onscreen. Not at all.
I’m writing this to say that the way sexual assault is presented onscreen needs to shift—because there is a way to handle and depict these issues without any confusion that what was onscreen was sexual assault. Because rape isn’t “weird” or “disturbing” sex. It’s not sex at all. It’s violation, it’s criminal, and can happen to anyone.
This content exists, and I’m not attempting to fight its presence, but I am trying to fight the unfair and incorrect perception of it. We, as a society, and as survivors, deserve better.
