1. The
pregnancy pact
17 filles
(2011) marks the first feature of French directing duo and sisters, Delphine
and Muriel Colin. The plot is inspired by a real-life event that took place in
a Gloucester (Massachusetts) high school in 2008 and which saw 18 teenage girls
commit to a ‘pregnancy pact’ with the aim of conceiving almost simultaneously.
In the case of 17 filles, the
narrative is transposed to the sleepy seaport of Lorient in Southwest Brittany,
a town razed to the ground by Allied bombings during the Second World War and later
rebuilt in a rather austere and industrial architectural style. Lorient is
depicted in the film as a town that is in decline with the dream of prosperity
once promised by its reconstruction now far behind it. It is against this
background of decrepitude and paralysis that a group of 17 fresh-faced and
energetic lycéennes decide to take hold of their future and literally breathe
life back into the staleness of their surrounding environment through procreation,
much to the outrage of their parents and teachers. Reviews of 17 filles approach the film from a
number of interesting perspectives: the invigorating nature of the narrative
and the ability of youth to shake up a society that has become stagnant; the
awkward transition from childhood into adulthood (not only are there 17 girls,
the majority are aged 17 and thus positioned at the liminal stage of ‘no longer
child but not yet adult’); and, finally, the feminist potential of the film in
that it depicts a reclaiming of the female body by its subject. While the theme
of maternity is, of course, signposted in these reviews (it is unavoidable), I
feel that, perhaps due to its self-evident presence in the narrative, it has
not been fully probed. 17 filles,
despite its surface simplicity offers quite a complex and, at times,
contradictory reflection on motherhood in contemporary Western culture. This
discussion will focus on the ambivalent treatment of maternity which, for me,
is at the heart of the film. I will argue that while an initial response to
this film may be to read the act of becoming a mother as one that has capacity
to be subversive, on closer analysis it becomes clear that the maternal
narrative offered by 17 filles is
actually one that corresponds quite closely to the patriarchal master narrative
of motherhood, a trajectory that is rendered even more pernicious here in that
is presented as a act of free choice when, in fact, it is deeply coercive.
2. A
subversive maternity?
Before
illustrating the more prescriptive and, in parts, retreatist nature of 17 filles, I will examine what it is
about this film that leads critics and spectators to view it as revitalising
and rebellious in terms of its maternal discourse.
First
of all, and this is perhaps where the feminist argument is strongest, in a
similar vein to differentialist thinkers such as Irigaray, 17 filles depicts the maternal as something that imbues women with
power. There is very little that the adults, despite their utmost
determination, can do to reverse the situation, for French law states that no
minor may be forced into having an abortion against her will. There is a sense
of awe surrounding these pregnant teenagers who strut around the lycée with
their bumps on display as fellow classmates, in particular the boys, gasp, but
more out of reverence than horror. Indeed, Camille, the first girl to fall
pregnant, is presented as a ‘leader’ of sorts whose followers increase in
numbers on a daily basis.
Secondly,
the film seems keen to present the pregnancies as a reclaiming of the female
body. In an opening scene, the girls are shown in their underwear outside a
classroom in a corridor of their lycée, each awaiting to undergo an individual
medical examination during which their bodies will be measured and scrutinized.
In another scene, we see them jogging and being timed, many of them doing so
against their will given that they escape to the beach and hide there for part
of the run. If, then, the school is a
place where the girls’ bodies are monitored and regulated, it is when they are outside of its confines
that the girls lay claim to their corporeality and inscribe their ownership on
the body by deliberately seeking impregnation. The pregnant body is
subsequently returned to the lycée where its heavy, swollen contours stand in
stark contrast to the slim, lithe and rigorously disciplined female bodies supervised
by the school authorities at the beginning of the film. The pregnant shape,
therefore, becomes in and of itself a threat to the order of the lycée. The
latter is illustrated in the scene of the class photo where the photographer is
clearly uncomfortable with all these pregnant teenagers and doesn’t know how to
position them in the shot, or, more specifically, hide their protruding
bellies.
This
reclaiming of the female body through the maternal in 17 filles extends well beyond the rebellious act of getting
pregnant and into the full duration of the pregnancy itself via the girls’
transgressive behaviour throughout. When pregnant, the girls pay no heed to the
rules and regulations of how to conduct oneself ‘properly’ while carrying a
child as dictated by the master narrative. The girls are frequently seen
smoking, consuming alcohol and partaking in vigorous and, at times, dangerous
physical activities – for example, kicking around a burning football and
recklessly diving into a swimming pool. The latter incident is particularly
revelatory of the control that they retain over their bodies when pregnant as
it takes place during a prenatal swimming class where, at first, all their
movements are being closely monitored by an instructor. They are navigating the
pool slowly and gently when all of a sudden another of the pregnant girls jumps
in jubilantly from the edges and once again the order that the adults/authorities
have tried to maintain has been dismantled. It is also important to mention in
relation to this new-found control that the girls gain over their bodies during
pregnancy (which, I should add, is most often seen as a time when the female
body is ‘out of control’, thus this a further subversion of the master
narrative of maternity) that the girls continue to position themselves as
sexual beings throughout the duration of their pregnancy and remain confident
in their ability to arouse sexual interest (evident in the various party
scenes). In this respect, the traditional notion of the pregnant woman as both
asexual and sexually out of bounds is reversed.
Perhaps
the most subversive and progressive aspect of the maternal narrative in 17 filles, however, stems from the
girls’ dream of an alternative form of mothering outside of the nuclear familar
which emerges during one of their many chats together as a group. Their vision
is founded on an all-female community where mothering would occur as a shared
activity, among friends, duties would be divided out evenly so that each member
could still retain a certain amount of personal freedom, and there would be no
rules or regulations dictating how they mother. This concept of a maternal
utopia where women take charge of their own mothering is further supported by
the absence of any father figures in the film. In the few instances where we know
who the father is, it is clear that he will not be involved (and this is the
girls’ wish) in the raising of the child. The teenage boys function as little
more than sperm donors in the film, with one of them even being paid 50 euro to
do ‘do the deed’ (in the case of Clémentine, the last of the girls to get
pregnant).
Within
this vision of a maternal utopia presented by 17 filles is the question of young mothering. At one point in the
film, one of the girls states triumphantly that they will be better mothers
because the generation gap between them and their offspring will be greatly
reduced, hence they will understand their children better. This proclamation, I
feel, incites us to reflect on the master narrative of motherhood and how it
positions maternity at a specific time in a woman’s life: after school and
after marriage. The girls in this film subvert the ‘natural’ order: they will
have children before they have finished their schooling (they will return after
the birth) and without marriage, without any man at all in fact. 17 filles, therefore, proposes not only
an alternative type of mothering (one that takes place within a community of
women and which does not need any prescribed rules and regulations), it also
questions why, as a society, we are so compelled to contain motherhood within a
very restrictive life trajectory, deeming maternity that occurs outside its established
slot (whether that be too early or too late) aberrant and disruptive.
3. The
maternal narrative as subjugation
Reading
the maternal narrative in 17 filles
as one that has the potential to subvert societal norms concerning motherhood
and liberate women and their bodies, however, is very much the initial, surface
interpretation. Further probing reveals that the representation of maternity in
the film corresponds just as much, if not more so, to the master narrative of
motherhood from which it purportedly deviates. Throughout the film, a number of
maternal myths are perpetuated which are deleterious to an authentic experience
of mothering.
First
and foremost, it is impossible to deny the glamorisation of the pregnant body
that occurs in 17 filles. All the
girls are conventionally attractive to the extent that a reviewer for Le Monde remarked ‘le casting a exclu
les disgracieuses’. The camera repeatedly focuses on the girls’ bumps,
fetishizing them and their neat protrusion from an otherwise slender body. The
girls incarnate, therefore, the perfect pregnant body so often encountered on
the cover of women’s magazines but which is almost impossible to achieve and places
immense pressure on women whose pregnant forms do not adhere to this
unreachable ideal. Not only is pregnancy depicted as a state of glowing health
and beauty, it is also presented to the spectator, for the most part, as an
entirely unproblematic biological event. The girls appear to sail through their
pregnancies with very little difficulty apart from one instance of mild
disinterest in food. Any medical issues that do arise (a problem with the
placenta and light bleeding) are quickly resolved and the pregnancy resumes its
normal course. The risk of sexually transmitted diseases is equally brushed
aside, with only one character making any reference to it whatsoever.
Even
more pernicious than the glorification of the physical state of pregnancy in 17 filles are the various problematic
socio-political messages concerning maternity disseminated (probably unconsciously
but this shows the extent to which they have been internalised) by the film.
Becoming a mother is presented as a means of acquiring status in society (for
example, the girls are aware of the number of social benefits that they will
receive). Although the girls do not turn their back on their education entirely
(they all intend to return to the lycée after giving birth), they see maternity
as a more direct route to personal fulfilment, recognition, and money! More
subtly but much more insidiously, maternity emerges not only as means of
improving the girls’ lives, it is also imbued with the potential to rescue its
surroundings (Lorient) from an obvious economic and social downturn. Throughout
the film, shots of the town suggest degeneration and discontent among its
inhabitants. Juxtaposed against this are the scenes of the sea which are full
of vigour, joy and possibility. It is interesting to note that in French the
words for sea (la mer) and mother (la mère) are homophones. Subsequently, I
believe that in the same way that the sea (la mer) serves as a place of escape
from the grimness of Lorient, so too maternity (la mère) is posited as a ‘life-line’
of sorts for this town in economic and social decline and the pregnant girls
are revered as its saviours. The girls then, unbeknownst to them, are being
drawn into the socio-political discourse that turns to maternity for
rejuvenation in times of economic deflation.
Furthermore,
although 17 filles is keen to present
these multiple pregnancies as a choice (except in the case of the ringleader,
Camille, whose pregnancy is the result of a condom accident), to what extent
can these girls really make their own minds up about having a baby when they
know very little about the actual facts of the event? This lack of knowledge
concerning maternity is evident in several scenes throughout the film: when
they ask the pharmacist if they can share a pregnancy testing kit; when they
discuss the foetus and display amazement at the information they read concerning
its development; and finally, when some of the girls both giggle and squirm at
the video portraying a real-life birth shown by the headmaster at the school in
a bid to halt the ‘pregnancy pact’. As a result, it becomes disputable as to
whether we can actually state that these girls are reclaiming their bodies and
freely choosing to be mothers when they know very little about how pregnancy
unfolds. It could be argued that women are deliberately misinformed/deprived of
information by society in a bid to coerce them more readily into motherhood.
Certainly, in 17 filles, the girls’
ignorance, albeit a source of much of the humour in the film, is disturbing
given the serious impact on their lives of the decision that they have made.
Alongside this is the fact that we are never really offered any clear reason as
to why they want to have a baby. We can surmise as to their motivations
(rebellion, desire for fulfilment etc) but nothing is ever confirmed. Given,
therefore, that the girls don’t even seem to know why they want to become
mothers, nor do they possess much practical information about the experience, I
feel that 17 filles (again unconsciously)
raises the question of how much real choice women actually have when it comes
to maternity.
In
conjunction with this lack of choice is a threat to the woman as individual
brought about by the institution of motherhood. Granted, the girls in 17 filles are never positioned as
individuals even in the pre-motherhood state. On the contrary, they are most
often found in gangs and there is little detail to distinguish one from the
other (their bedrooms, for example, usually a haven for personal expression as
a teenager, are almost identical). However, this lack of individuality
disintegrates even further when they become pregnant. More and more they travel
around in what can only be described as a maternal tribe and, at times, when
the camera focuses on their bumps, it is difficult to discern which belly
belongs to whom. Of course, this ‘maternal tribe’ could be heralded as an
alternative form of mothering outside of the master narrative, but it comes, it
would seem, at the expense of the individual. The version of motherhood,
therefore, that we are presented with in 17
filles is one where everyone ascribes to the same model and there is no
place deviance.
This
leads me to my final point which, for me, is the most oppressive aspect of the
representation of maternity in the film - there is no tolerance of ambivalence
in motherhood. As stated above, the girls seem to sail through pregnancy
without any real doubts or fears and abortion is not a option for any of them.
It is highly unrealistic to portray 17 pregnant teenagers who all embrace the
idea of young motherhood so unproblematically. Alongside this is the chastising
of mothers who display any ambivalent feelings towards their children, for
example, Camille’s (the protagonist) mother. The latter is a single mother who
has to work long hours in order to provide for her family. She is shown to be
in conflict with her maternal status and it is clear that she struggles to
negotiate her own personal desires with her responsibilities in the home. Due to
her ambivalence, Camille’s mother is represented to the viewer as a ‘bad’
mother, one who is selfish and neglectful. The viewer is encouraged to
empathise with Camille, especially in a early scene when she is depicted alone
at home, assuming the maternal role by preparing dinner only to have her actual
mother return from work and announce that she is going out to socialise,
abandoning her daughter once again. Throughout the film, Camille repeatedly
asserts that she will be a ‘better’ mother and devote herself to her child,
thus perpetuating the notion that there is only one way to be a ‘good’ mother
and that women who do not abide by this norm (namely, Camille’s mothers) are
inevitably ‘bad’ mothers.
This
non-tolerance of ambivalent mothers in
the film also extends to non-mothers. Motherhood is depicted as a kind of
‘cult’ or ‘in’ group and those who do not adhere to its model are branded
deviant. An example of this is the character of Florence. A loner at school,
Florence desperately wants to fit in and thus feigns pregnancy in order to be
accepted by the other girls. As soon as her deceit is discovered, however, she
is callously cast aside and branded a traitor. The choice of the word traitor
is charged with meaning. For me it suggests that motherhood is seen as the
natural state for a woman and that Florence, by failing to join in with the
pregnancy pact and choosing to stand outside of motherhood, is viewed as an
aberrant female, having betrayed not only other women but also herself and her
supposed ‘core femininity’. The school nurse, another non-mother, finds herself
on the receiving end of a similar dismissal. While during a conversation with
Camille when she tries to encourage the latter to put an end to this pregnancy
pact and dissuade any further girls from entering into it, Camille retorts
viciously that she (the nurse) could never understand their motivation or what
it feels like as she (the nurse) has never had children of her own. What we are
witnessing here is a rejection of the non-mother whose reasoning is relegated
to nonsense because she has no physical experience of being a mother.
Motherhood, therefore, emerges as an institution that is deeply exclusionary
and dismissive of women who do not fall inside its parameters. Again we return
to the question of choice in motherhood. If this is how despicably non-mothers
are treated, do women actually have any real choice in their decision to become
mothers?
4. Retreatism
or Progression?
To
conclude this reflection, I will return to the question raised in the title,
that is, to what extent is the version of motherhood presented in 17 filles one that subverts the master
narrative or one that merely submits to it? Near the middle of the film, an
emergency staff meeting is organised at the lycée in order to deal with the
pregnancy pact that is spiralling out of control. In a discussion that reflects
many of the divisions between postfeminism (anti-feminist) and third wave
feminism (progressive feminism) with regard to women’s behaviour in the
twenty-first century, two distinct responses are forwarded by the teachers. The
first considers the girls’ actions to be regressive, deleterious to their
futures and a resumption of an out-of-date form of femininity that relegates
women to the household and posits motherhood as their ultimate goal in life.
The second, on the other hand, argues to the contrary, stating that the girls
are reclaiming their bodies for themselves and refusing to listen to the diktats
of society on when and how they should become mothers. As this reflection has
illustrated, 17 filles does not adopt
a clear-cut stance on the matter. An initial reading leads us to view the film
as refreshing and daring in its depiction of maternity, and there is much to
recommend this interpretation. However, as we strip away the initial layers
of the narrative, it becomes clear that more noxious and manipulative form of
motherhood lurks beneath, one that serves the needs of a patriarchal society rather
than allowing women to take control of their own mothering in the way that the
film initially sets out to achieve. Although the impact of a narrative should
not be reduced to its conclusion alone, it is nonetheless important in the case
of 17 filles to point out that a
return to ‘natural order’ is restored at the end of the film. The idea of a maternal
utopia so fervently discussed by the girls throughout the film has come undone
following the departure of Camille who loses her baby due to car accident. The other
girls subsequently return to their parents’ homes, give birth and resume their
studies. Consequently, their transgression is corrected and any chance of truly
positioning themselves outside of the master narrative of motherhood and
thereby threatening its structures is promptly and, perhaps, inevitably quelled.
