The flawed perfection of Carol Peletier
"I'll show you what a woman can do." - Artemisia Gentileschi
The Mona Lisa is one of the most well-known paintings of all time. Da Vinci poured his expertise into it, and every brush stroke whispers "perfection". The painting is a masterpiece; people want to witness her, feel the enigma behind her smile, and taste that mystery. The bare bones of the story? It's a painting of a woman named Lisa Gherardini, commissioned by her husband, a wealthy merchant. In my opinion, the painting is rendered for a male gaze, which follows the conventional standards of female beauty at the time. Da Vinci used the sfumato technique — making the shading soft, elegant, dainty, and patient. It's a demure depiction of femininity where you can stand and admire the subject and the art techniques. It doesn't make you feel anything; it encourages you to look for the "secret hidden behind her smile."
I was frustrated but not surprised when this painting was used to subtly suggest that Carol is similar to the Mona Lisa because the entire show is written for the male gaze. One of the most compelling female characters on TV — who broke gender norms and societal constructs — is compared to the most well-known painting in the world, which also happens to be a painting of someone's wife.
Carol is not a muse of a man. She isn't a masterpiece that people are still trying to understand. Carol is a force of nature; you know exactly who she is because she isn't afraid to show you. She doesn't represent a subject to be contemplated or held under scrutiny by the male gaze. She embodies the flawed perfection of a woman revered by the female gaze.
Which brings me to this masterpiece.
Judith Beheading Holofernes, Artemisia Gentileschi, 1620
Judith was a widow who entered the enemy camp pretending to be a traitor who wanted to share information about her town. Assyrian general Holofernes was enamoured by her beauty and invited her to his tent, so she charmed him and waited for him to drop his guard. When he drank himself into a stupor, she sawed his head off with a sword to free her people. She and her maidservant returned to her town with Holofernes' severed head.
Artemisia Gentileschi is a celebrated female painter from the 17th century. Although this story has been immortalized in art many times — including Caravaggio's painting, which inspired this one — almost all depictions of this biblical story show Judith as dainty, demure, and passive. But Artemisia's work is imbued with her life experiences.
(trigger warning: mentions of SA, depictions of gore)
Artemisia lost her mother when she was twelve. She was raped by the painter Agostino Tassi when she was a teenager and then tortured at her trial, where she was asked to give evidence of the assault. He was found guilty and banished, but his punishment was never carried out because he had received protection from the Pope. She was the first woman to join Florence’s Academy of Design. She lost four of her five children. She married a Florentine artist and owned a successful workshop in Naples without the help of a wealthy husband or a patron (which was almost impossible at the time). She used her influence as an artist to highlight female agency, and elevated women to be bold and assertive in her paintings. (source)
Now, look at the painting again and tell me what you see.
Judith is identical to Artemisia herself, and Holofernes resembles her abuser, who was never punished. Judith is muscular with a softness to her skin; her sleeves and bracelet are rolled up, and her maidservant helps her but never clouds the composition. The chiaroscuro technique carves the subjects in sharp shadows and light. Judith's and her maidservant's faces are determined and calculated, and the most emotion you see is the horror in Holofernes' eyes as the blood sprays from his neck and pools around his body. Once you notice the blood, it permeates the painting — even the velvet blanket that covers him becomes an extension of it.
A wise woman once said, "Give him the greatest night of his life. Get him to drop his guard, and then when he's sleeping, you can end this."
Judith is ordinary, flawed, and resourceful because she has to be. Her goal is to protect her people, and she will do what is necessary to save them. She gives into the male gaze to achieve that goal, but ultimately, even though she's in a camp full of armed men and is at "the mercy" of a powerful man who underestimates her — she holds all the power.
The woman in this painting is feminine, violent, beautiful, terrifying, determined, and unafraid.
Women written by the male gaze for the male gaze often fall into two-dimensional categories: they're either violent or scared, sexy or demure, good or evil, selfish or self-deprecating, perpetrator or victim, etc. The writing is often surface level, doesn't capture the depth of the woman's personality and keeps morphing to suit a male character's story. More often than not, the person most affected by their personality is a man who either saves them or shuns them. Or worse, he kills them or watches them die — sometimes both. In these scenarios, the woman becomes the narrative device that furthers the man's story. Her story is stripped down to build the man's tragic hero arc — he lives, but she dies for it.
Carol Peletier is the antidote to this structure because she broke the stereotype. Carol is perfectly flawed because she makes mistakes and choices women aren't "supposed to make," yet her beauty, strength, motivation, and honour remain unchanged. Her losses are the scars that mark her journey, and she commands her story completely. She is capable of extraordinary things, and I have never once doubted her integrity.
Carol deserves a story that sees and honours the beautiful and terrifying force of nature that she is. A showrunner who follows gimmicks to portray strong women, makes men punish them for their choices and then compares his female lead to the Mona Lisa because "there is a secret hidden behind her smile" hasn't even begun to fathom who Carol is and what she's capable of. She deserves leadership that recognizes and respects the flawed perfection of an ordinary woman who will beguile a powerful enemy and behead them to save her loved ones. She deserves leadership who knows she isn't here to pick up the pieces of a man's story — she is the story.
That is what a woman is capable of. That is what a woman can do.
The current leadership of The Book of Carol is trying their best to box Carol into a misogynist trope that will never hold her, even if it tries to. Melissa McBride is the only person who tends to Carol's integrity and keeps it strong for us through all of this. She holds this show together even when she doesn't have compelling writing, equal billing or an inclusive title.
Carol Peletier deserves a showrunner who not only sees her flawed perfection but reveres it, cherishes it, immortalizes it, and sears it into the story so fiercely that you can see it from the heavens long after the flame has gone out.
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