It's hard to say how deliberate Roberts' act is, but at some level she clearly understands the sadistic impulse that lurks within celebrity culture. She has some grasp, either explicit or intuitive, of how the masses need to destroy their idols -- particularly their female idols. Male stars may be father-gods, hunky protectors men can emulate and women adore, but female stars must possess some fatal frailty -- incompetence, less-than-perfect looks, self-doubt. Otherwise they're too threatening to the onlooker's fantasy of connecting with that powerful male. The actors on the screen become frustrated Oedipal parents, forming a seamless union that shuts the needy spectator out.

Roberts, on the other hand, brings the spectator into the scene. In this respect, she's the only major star in our era to evoke the screen queens of Hollywood's golden age. Not Katharine Hepburn -- though "I Love Trouble" and "My Best Friend's Wedding" begged for comparison (Hepburn was too scrappy, not tragic enough). Roberts' true foremothers are the drama queens: Bette Davis, star of a succession of popular "women's weepies" (to which "Stepmom" explicitly harks back), and Joan Crawford, so glamorously miserable in "Mildred Pierce."

Other contemporary female stars try to muster this larger-than-life, old-Hollywood aura, but they overlook its subtle yet definitive note of vulnerability. Particularly in feminism's wake, Hollywood actresses are determined to show off their empowerment on-screen. Demi Moore, Sharon Stone and Geena Davis have all struck a Helen Reddyish superwoman pose, and all have paid a price -- particularly Stone. After bragging about her looks and determinedly trying to be a "serious" actress, she's quietly loathed by women everywhere.

Roberts could never be treated that way, because she gives her public all the power. She never lets the audience forget her fate is in their hands. Like an Aztec king or stigmata'd saint, she offers herself willingly to the bloodthirsty mob.

Even in her most upbeat film, "Pretty Woman," this remained her central role. That movie's success befuddled critics at the time -- particularly feminists, who were knocked for a loop by its uncanny appeal. Elayne Rapping, perhaps the last unabashedly angry feminist writer in America, wrote, "The movie, I confess, tickled me." Years later, "Pretty Woman" remains the classic guilty pleasure.

Critics have attributed this appeal to everything from subconscious prostitute fantasies to Roberts' megawatt smile, but Daphne Merkin offered the most compelling explanation in her 1990 article "The Knight in Shining Armani." The film's appeal for women, Merkin wrote, lay in the story of a woman who, "in the course of teaching a driven corporate raider how to feel, earns not only a whole new wardrobe culled from Rodeo Drive, but also his love." The key word here is "earns." In "Pretty Woman," like in all her roles, Roberts made a spectacle of sacrifice. Her character endured a boggling array of humiliations -- prostituted, snubbed, doubted, insulted, patronized, assaulted, nearly raped -- before her selfless forbearance eventually won out. "Pretty Woman" was the story of a martyr, a virgin/whore Madonna who did everything but weep blood to sanctify her suffering.

Roberts' clean-hearted prostitute remains a secular saint to this day. (Aware of this, the writers of "Notting Hill" make two separate references to her signature role.) The working girl's mortification at the hands of a couple of gimlet-eyed Rodeo Drive salesladies nearly a decade ago won her permanent underdog status, as well as the allegiance of an audience that needs reassuring. As a teary Lisa Kudrow tells Mira Sorvino in "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" -- noting that's she's seen "Pretty Woman" 36 times -- "I just get really happy when they finally let her shop."
salon.com | May 29, 1999

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

  Get a printer-friendly version

  E-mail a friend about this article

  Backflip this article to find it again

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Search Salon