Glow is like Mickey Rourke’s the Wrestler but on steroids—I mean estrogen. It is a manifestation of Roland Barthes’ the World of Wrestling. Wrestling is not a sport. It is a spectacle.[1]
I am not into escapism stage drama offered by wrestling as spectacle, but I love the real life drama that lies behind the scene. The personal struggles of each character, the wrestlers, are relatable. A struggling brunette actress who is unable to find a role that satisfies her ideals (female roles in the 80s were mostly unimportant, often eye candies only), a blonde actress who gave up acting for the financial security of marriage—but later disillusioned by her unhappiness, a black stuntwoman whose career is stumped due to her lack of acting skills, a British immigrant from London (Bromley, actually) trying to make it in Hollywood, a limousine driving rich Jewish girl looking for fun and attention, a Hispanic girl from a family of wrestlers wanting to pursue her passion in wrestling, a South Asian girl in medical school who feels medical school is not for her, a black single mother who raised her son into a Martin Luther King scholarships recipient in Stanford, an assertive and libertine Cambodian girl, a lesbian Hispanic stripper, a former Olympic medallist with anger management issue, and a teenage Goth with daddy issue.
Then there are the male characters, fragile and vulnerable. A talented grumpy insecure old B-movies director, a trust fund baby producer whose only obsession is wrestling from a Republican family (with a homosexual butler/best friend from childhood who loved him albeit unrequited). A predatory local TV director and a spineless TV executive.
The wrestling characters are offensive: the Welfare Queen (an African American fat woman who lives off benefits), Beirut the Terrorist (an Indian, but portrayed as an Arab—because all Asian look the same to American) and Fortune Cookie (a Cambodian, but portrayed as Chinese—again, Asian faces), Britannica (British accent sounds smart, just give her a pair of glasses). The diversity of the ‘offensive’ wrestlers is then juxtaposed with Liberty Belle as the representative of the ideal of an All-American-Woman (a smoking hot mother with Southern drawl accent who voted for Reagan—but most importantly, she is blonde) to demonstrate the paradox of America as a melting pot with a strong culture of whitewashing.
The off-stage and on stage characters are not-so-subtle commentaries on the deep rooted sexism and racism in America. Therefore, I think Glow is one of the ultimate art house films on liberal feminism. It is about the struggle of women in search of empowerment and reinvention of identities. As a man, the film appeals to both my inner ape and intellectual: hot girls of diverse ethnicities embracing their sexuality and strong personalities.[2] Glow is objectifying and ‘subjectifying’ women at the same time. An acknowledgement of ‘girl power’: girls come in different shapes and sizes. Each with their personality, preference and emotional baggage, must navigate a white men’s world. I found Glow satisfying for my inner Steppenwolf.[3]
If you’re among the 80s generation (which I am not—not that old), when the Cold War was at its height (cue Zoya the Destroya) and spandex was still fashionably sensible, you will find the cinematography and music scores nostalgic.
[1] R Barthes, Mythologies (Vintage, 2009), 3-14
[2] My favourites are Britannica (yes, I am a sucker for British accent—they do sound smart for me) and Fortune Cookie (I am also a sucker for oriental looks).
[3] H Hesse, Steppenwolf (Penguin Essentials, 2011)