Karen McCullah (once known as Karen McCullah Lutz, but perhaps changed it because of being associated with Lutz on 30 Rock) founded her entire screenwriting career on churning out rom-com gold with an adaptation of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew in the form of 1999’s 10 Things I Hate About You. Thus, it was only a natural fit for her to continue down this “literary” (through the lens of Hollywood) path with 2006’s She’s the Man, starring a pre-desirous of Drake to murder her vagina Amanda Bynes.
With the Shakespearean source material this time around being Twelfth Night, McCullah and her writing partner, Kirsten Smith (who once naively thought she would pursue a career in poetry while attending Occidental College), decided to wield the consistently mocked sport of soccer as the central plot/motive for Viola’s (Amanda Bynes) need to conceal her identity and gender from Duke (Channing Tatum, in his first major role), a nod to Orsino in the original being worthy of the royal title. Once again tackling the matter of how to reinvent a “complex” woman (this being code merely for a woman who should do as she likes) that was slightly more “relatable” than Katarina (Julia Stiles), McCullah and Smith paint the modern Viola as haplessly defiant in her “cute” attempts to keep her soccer aspirations going–attempts that are dashed when her own high school cuts the team because “not enough girls signed up.” Ah yes, the necessary and undercutting dig at how generally non-athletic females are. Outraged by the unexpected turn of events, Viola demands that she and her teammates are given the opportunity to try out for the boys team before school starts in two weeks and they have to play against their rival.
When the coach balks, Viola insists, “Come on coach, you know that we’re good enough.” Disgusted with her claim, he lashes back, “I don’t know that that’s a thing that I know.” Soon, the entire boys team is involved, including Viola’s boyfriend/captain of the team, Justin (Robert Hoffman), who reneges on what he told her previously about Viola being more talented than half the guys on the team. In fact, one of the only truly feministic things Viola does in the entire movie is break up with Justin for his cowardly and chauvinistic behavior.
When the coach also seeks to dredge up the antiquated argument, “Girls aren’t as fast as boys. Or as strong. Or as athletic. This is not me talking. It’s a scientific fact,” Viola is forced with no other option but to take some passive aggressive action that soon after manifests in disguising herself as her twin brother, Sebastian (James Kirk). Of course, overwrought foreshadowing for this is required, therefore provided by Sebastian’s high-strung girlfriend, Monique (Alexandra Breckenridge…not to be confused with Myra, another character in a gender-confused narrative). Indeed, Monique’s entire essence speaks to the reason why men are fond of generalizing women as vacuous hen-peckers–maybe that’s unwittingly part of her purpose in the movie. That is, in addition to offering the presaging observation, “You and your brother look scary alike from behind. It must be your total lack of curves” when she practically attacks a hoodie-wearing Viola while thinking she’s going to be able to bitch out her brother.
While the Viola of Shakespeare’s play gets shipwrecked on the coast of Illyria, the Viola of Bynes’ rendering is shipwrecked in the pretension of her twin brother’s private high school, also called Illyria as a petite homage. The opportunity knocks when Sebastian announces to Viola that he’s going to London to perform at a music festival and can Viola please cover for him, which won’t be difficult considering both of their parents–recently divorced–believe that their kids are staying at the other’s house.
As Viola settles in uncomfortably into her/Sebastian’s dorm at Illyria, her roving and freshly single eye can’t help but focus on the body of Duke, who also sleeps next to her. The two quickly form a bond, especially when it becomes clear to Duke that Sebastian is more attuned to and adept at talking to girls than he is. Specifically Olivia Lennox (Laura Ramsey), a popular girl, who takes a shine to Sebastian because of how in touch with his feminine side he is. It’s a classic case of the “Love Stinks” lyrics, “You love her/But she loves him/And he loves somebody else/You just can’t win.” Ah, but some people can win in love. And they’re usually white girls from an affluent background. Which is the main reason we’re given Viola’s happy ending, saying more about Duke’s “wokeness” than her own. If she was woke, she would’ve kept moving on the second Duke showed homophobic hesitations during their friendship, and then got all skittish when he found out about her “true” “gender identity.” Basically, this movie could not have survived the box office in these fluid times.
To add to the lack of feminism of She’s the Man, nowhere in the script does Viola take a stand for herself in any confrontational or declarative manner (unless you count the expected scene of her flashing her tits as proof of her womanhood), serving to further solidify the male-generated archetype of women as being sneaky and underhanded in the ways in which they strive to get what they want. There might have been a time when such methods were absolutely essential, but not quite so much in the dawning of the twenty-first century, despite still being under Bush II’s reign. A woman with more chutzpah and fearlessness would have simply started her own soccer team, drumming up female members from wherever she could (of course, where is the screwball comedy in that?). The most evolved and feministic out of all the characters somehow turns out to be Duke and the Illyria soccer coach (played by Vinnie Jones in the era after Guy Ritchie plucked him from the field for the screen), who defy everyone at the game to challenge their wish for Viola to play as a girl. The message that this sends, of course, is that women still need a male sanction in order participate in, well, just about anything. Bynes would go on to another affront in the gender-bending genre the following year in the remake of Hairspray, but it wasn’t in the same vein as She’s the Man‘s attempt at making a statement against sexism–a statement that was never made so much as insinuated in a fashion that only iterates the classic formula of a girl needing a boy in the end. Much to Shakespeare’s delight.
