Newsflash: Female Mental Illness in 21st Century Film and Television and in the film Persona (1966): A Critical Examination of the Portrayal of Women

"Crazy Chick Flicks" by Ramin Setoodeh, Newsweek

Persona (1966) trailer

Female Mental Illness in 21st Century Film and Television and in Persona (1966):
A Critical Examination of the Portrayal of Women

The media continues to play a powerful role in the women’s movement, simultaneously presenting choices for women in employment and in personal interests while perpetuating stereotypes that trivialize women and limit female experience. Interestingly, insane women are an especially popular representation of women in film and television programs. These programs acknowledge the inner experiences and struggles of female characters, but become problematic when insane female characters become icons for the experience of all women and the resulting negative connotations associated with mental illness permeate into viewers’ overall conception of women. Although these depictions have become increasingly prominent from the mid-20th century to the turn of the 21st century and into the present, insane female characters have existed in media throughout a lengthy historical tradition, pervading classic Greek drama over two thousand years ago and carrying into more modern forms of media in recent years. To further understand this tradition, I will investigate why depictions of insane women are popular to contemporary male and female audiences and consider how the film Persona (1966) specifically exemplifies a depiction of female mental illness and more generally contributes to the prevailing discourse of women’s issues during the mid-twentieth century.



In an article titled “Crazy Chick Flicks” in Newsweek, psychiatrists, actors, screenwriters, and individuals involved in media production were asked why female characters experiencing mental breakdown are so well-liked by audiences. These individuals explained that male audiences are “attracted to someone who has a degree of helplessness,” “can’t think of a crazy girl who isn’t hot” (Setoodeh, 2011, 44), can provide for “women who desperately need the affection of a mate,” and are turned on by the sympathetic nature of commonly unclothed mentally ill women overtaken by “aggressive sexuality” (Setoodeh 45). Female sexuality seems to be inextricably bound with mentally ill female characters, serving to minimize women as merely sexual beings who are attractive because of their sexual nature and are incapable of caring for themselves, requiring a heterosexual relationship to survive. Female audiences view the characters as “attractive, but [] crazy” and elevate their own status while denigrating the status of the mentally ill character (Setoodeh 44). Many women view media to “compete” with female characters, seeking to be in the “smart club” of women who are mentally stable and do not act vulnerable or reveal weakness. Female actors are attracted to these roles because it is challenging and rewarding to move beyond flat and stereotypical portrayals of mentally ill individuals in order to develop depth and levels of character. Additionally, these actors often receive increased publicity and popularity as a result of these roles (Setoodeh 44).



Although I am not familiar with most of the films or shows mentioned in the Newsweek article, the article’s unsubstantiated statement that “very few people seem to get offended when Hollywood uses mental illness as a plot point” (Setoodeh 44) resonates with the passive and uncritically-accepting nature of many American media viewers. The use of mental illness in entertainment media elevates awareness of mental illness and unconsciously influences perceptions of women and mental illness, but does not seek to trivialize the effects of mental illness. However, when mental illness is linked with females and conveys subtle messages about women more generally, it can be offensive to feminists. The article mentions that “for men, crazy doesn’t carry the same cachet” (Setoodeh 45). Mentally ill male characters do not receive the same prestige as female characters in media sources, whether they are invented characters or real-life individuals. As Douglas points out, “in the news, women [a]re either victims or delinquents of some sort” and “what primarily made them newsworthy was their sexuality” (Douglas, 2010, 58; 59). Douglas also writes that female violence associated with mental illness is captivating, but not because it is regarded as threatening. Instead, women are depicted as outrageous and the potentially complex causes of their violence are not thoroughly analyzed by the media. When examining this phenomenon through a feminist lens, one may want to consider that mental illness associated with females can reinforce women as helpless wrongdoers and, in turn, affirm patriarchal society and masculinity as a more rational force deserving of superiority and dominance. 



The film Persona (1966) offers an interesting perspective as a Swedish film and demonstrates complexity, both in its filming technique and in its portrayal of mentally ill women. Before I begin analyzing the film, I would like to clarify that a single film or television show cannot be blamed for subtly conveying a message about women; rather, the combined influence of many media sources which all convey similar subtle messages about women create and reinforce a more general message. Also, as I am not knowledgeable of the context of this film (Sweden in the 1960s), statements that I write are based upon what we have studied in this course and therefore are assumptions, not truths. 



An abbreviated version of the film (for those who are unfamiliar with it) is that a female actor (Elizabet) suddenly stops communicating verbally after a show, is diagnosed with a condition without evident physical or mental cause (somatoform disorder) and is sent to a beachfront house with a nurse (Alma) who will care for her needs. Ironically, Alma reveals her own mental instability in one-sided conversations with Elizabet and extreme similarities between the characters emerge, to the extent that Alma’s actions and life experience seem to coalesce with Elizabet’s presentation of herself (persona). 



Though Douglas credits films and television shows in the early 1990s with presenting the inner monologues of women, I found that an earlier film like Persona also presents women’s interior thoughts. Most of the film is shot in a very intimate manner, with extreme close-up views of both main characters, and takes place at the beachfront house where Alma and Elizabet reside. As Alma is the only character there who speaks, her inner monologue is made explicit because of circumstance and she pours out her thoughts and feelings to Elizabet. At first, the conversations center on books and mundane topics, but soon concentrate upon more reflective personal matters, including sexual experiences, feelings of sexual pleasure, and worries about lack of ambition. However, this inner monologue is worrisome because Alma is supposed to be in a caregiving role as a nurse. It seems that her capacity to fill this duty may be called into question or compromised because of mental instability. These inner thoughts potentially reveal the self-centeredness of women who are overtaken by seemingly “petty” concerns when compared with the "intellectual" thoughts of men. However, the film does suggest the possibility that women do not need men to survive, as Elizabet and Alma live alone in the beachfront house without male influence. Later in the film, Alma is unable to maintain her medical professionalism as she experiences antagonism toward Elizabet because Elizabet writes in a letter that “it’s very interesting studying her [Alma]” (Persona). Alma leaves the residence as an irresponsible last act. Once again, the candid inclusion of female character’s inner monologues, initially thought to benefit the status of women by valuing their voice and ideas, goes awry when interior thoughts reinforce female shortcomings.



The film’s conflict develops when Alma realizes that she was deceived by Elizabet’s interest in her life stories, which did not originate from fondness, but rather from the potential to scrutinize Alma’s life. Alma’s antagonism toward her patient, Elizabet, begins when Alma intentionally leaves a shard of glass in the sand and Elizabet cuts her foot. The conflict escalates to a scene in which Alma is punched in the nose, almost hurls a pot of boiling water at Elizabet, cuts her own arm, and forces Elizabet to press her lips to the wound. The ridiculous nature of this violence serves to demonstrate that women cannot be taken seriously because they only have the courage to inflict minor wounds and then proceed with peculiar practices (lips on wound) after damage is inflicted.



I am not knowledgeable of feminist movements in Sweden during the mid-twentieth century, but I noticed parallels between Elizabet’s condition of unknown origin and Betty Friedan’s concept of “the problem that has no name” (Freedman ed., 2007, 274) especially considering the common emergence of the film and The Feminine Mystique during the 1960s. The reason given by the film for Elizabet’s silence is that speech doesn’t feel real or genuine. The doctor who initially diagnoses her speaks of “the gulf between what [Elizabet is] with others and what [she is] alone” (Persona), potentially alluding to a sense of existential loneliness and set of societal limitations which prevent Elizabet from conveying who she is and what she desires in the world. Viewers also learn that Elizabet was told that she should possess the virtue of motherhood, proceeds to become pregnant, tries to abort the fetus, and ultimately hates her child, experiencing a form of postpartum depression. Is it possible that Elizabeth could be experiencing dissatisfaction with her life as a woman and the societal expectations for women, which manifests itself as a reluctance to communicate in the world? It is likely that Elizabet’s crisis is rooted in more personal concerns, but as Friedan conveyed, the dissatisfaction felt within the life of one woman is a shared experience of nearly all women (who are white, suburban, middle to upper class Americans). The costs associated with a personal nurse may suggest that Elizabet is financially secure and belongs to a similar class of women in Sweden and, therefore, a similar shared experience.

While films and television programs starring certainly possess entertainment value, they should be examined to determine how women are valued and if portrayals can be construed in a manner which may disempower all women, not only those who are affected by mental illness. It seems that the only way to avoid representing women poorly in the media is to omit women completely, but that would be immensely difficult and would retract all power women have achieved through positive representations in the media. Therefore, I encourage you, observers of varied media, to act as as conscious beings and view these representations of women from a context of feminist critique, realizing that the media may create reality or be created from reality, but does not offer a completely accurate depiction of the world or those who live in it.

Works Cited

Douglas, Susan. Enlightened Sexism: The Seductive Message that Feminism’s
Work is Done. New York: Times Books, 2010. Print.

Freedman, Estelle B. ed. The Essential Feminist Reader. New York: Modern Library, 2007. Print.

Persona. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Perf. Bibi Andersson, Liv Ullmann, and
Margaretha Krook. Les Artistes Associés S. A. B., 1966. Film.

Setoodeh, Ramin. “Crazy Chick Flicks.” Newsweek. 7 Feb. 2011: 44-45. Print.