Product Placement Masquerading as Movie - Kit Kittredge: An American Girl
As "the son and husband of feminists," when New York Times film critic A.O. Scott considers the impact of a movie based on the "American Girl" franchise of historic dolls, I'm inclined to trust his observations. Kit Kittredge: An American Girl, opening nationwide tomorrow, brings to life the American Girl doll of the same name who faces hardship during the Depression era of the 1930s.
Scott remarks that very few Hollywood films feature girls as protagonists (Juno being the rare exception.) And he welcomes what we see on the surface of the story:
It celebrates, in the midst of hard times, an appealingly ordinary brand of heroism. Kit is brave, smart, determined and kind, but never off-puttingly full of herself or intimidatingly superior. You would want her for a friend. You could easily imagine yourself in her place.But he's uncomfortable with this film in the same way that I'm uncomfortable. And we're not alone in this discomfort.Which may be at least some of what girls want, and what they get from American Girl.
The biggest obstacle that Kit Kittredge faces may be the mothers of its intended audience - young girls 12 and under. Because in these tough economic times, many are loathe to take their daughters to a movie that will likely end with their child pleading, "Can I have my own Kit doll, mommy?"
If you've never seen the large and glossy American Girl catalogs, visited their megastores in New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago (complete with cafe, theatre shows, and photo studio), or surfed their website, you may not realize that American Girl dolls are pricey. At Americangirl.com, the basic Kit doll (including outfit and book) is $90. If you must have the fetching hat that actress Abigal Breslin wears in the movie, the doll, book and accessories cost $105.(As of this writing, it's unclear if they are even available - the website displays this note: "KIT'S ACCESSORIES Backordered until 01-AUG-08.")
These details aren't lost on mother and film critic Ella Taylor. Writing in the Village Voice, she says what many others feel:
To my 10-year-old daughter, the term "American Girl" means "that store my meanie of a mom—unlike all the other, higher-quality moms—won't let me go near." While we're on the defensive, why should I? She hates dolls, and I—creeped out by row upon row of homogenized mannequins with staring Stepford Wife eyes and designer threads—get nauseous within 50 feet of that posh emporium, which peddles multiculti feminism with an outrageous price tag.Scott echoes Taylor's concerns as he reflects on the influence of Kit Kittredge and American Girl on the malleable minds of young girls:Such are the cultural contradictions of corporate capitalism....
As the son and husband of feminists, I can’t entirely suppress a tremor of unease. Is the brand reflecting tastes, or enforcing norms of behavior? Is it teaching girls to be independent spirits or devoted shoppers?You may agree with Taylor's daughter and see us all as meanies. And in a perfect world, we would be. But in this imperfect world, where marketing drives companies to pay for product placement in popular TV shows and films, Kit Kittredge is one well-crafted movie built around a well-placed product. And at $90 a pop, it's a product very few can afford, especially in the current economy.Probably all of those things, and more.
Photo © Kevin Winter/Getty Images
Comments
I’m certainly no fan of overblown, feature-length product ads such as the new American Girl movie, but I’m not sure feminism really enters into it. The recent Transformer movies do exactly the same thing: they base an entire movie on a toy the makers hope kids (mostly boys) will pressure their parents to buy. And it’s really not much different than all of the toys and other products that are inspired by movies, such as Indiana Jones calendars and coffee mugs or Buzz Lightyear action figures. This is certainly crass commercialism at its worst, but is it really a feminist issue?
It’s an issue for women and girls (whether or not they identify themselves as feminists) because the entire brand is labeled “American Girl.”
The Transformer and Indiana Jones licensed products are all based on fantasy heroes – we see the clear distinction. But the American Girl dolls are rooted in our shared cultural reality. As ‘real girls’ they serve as role models, and girls compare themselves to these ‘American’ icons of girlhood.
Credit should be given to them for multiculturalism – for dolls like Addy, Josefina, Ivy. Yet the price points of these dolls and their outfits makes them out of reach for vast numbers of the American public.
The girls who can afford them are affluent and predominantly white. And they prefer to buy the Kirstens, Mollys, Samanthas, and Kits.
Proof of the racial preference of girls (and their moms) can be heard in a terrifically funny, insightful piece by Elna Baker for This American Life entitled “Babies Buying Babies.”
So when dolls are created that pay lip service to multiculturalism, but are not affordable to most people, and are sold in elaborate ‘experiential retail’ environments that again are beyond the means of the majority of consumers, and when primarily affluent children (again, mostly white) are the only ones who can purchase these dolls, then it becomes an issue.
Barbie may be unrealistic. Her body shape may be physiologically impossible. But at least she’s affordable to all.
One of the main criticisms of second wave feminism is that the women who led the movement were not responsive to the needs of all women, primarily women of color. So as young feminists promote third wave feminism and greater inclusion, issues like Kit Kittredge and the American Girl dolls do become feminist issues.