OK, so some of the best minds working in lesbian film today got together in a room and the best title they could come up with was Itty Bitty Titty Committee? I have as good a sense of humour as the next dyke, but considering that they only tied the title into the film in the last 2.3 seconds (and that not very well) it leads me to believe that somebody in that room thought it was far funnier than it actually is. For those of you who don’t know, Itty Bitty Titty Committee (which I’m now going to refer to as IBTC, mainly because I’m sick of writing the whole thing, but also because it’s terrible) is the first feature film produced by the organisation known as PowerUP. Mainly through savvy publicity, the group has stylised themselves as the first and last word in lesbian entertainment. The name stands for Professional Organisation of Women in Entertainment Reaching Up. Until now they’ve mainly given film grants to short filmmakers (which helped Angela Robinson produced the original D.E.B.S short film). Once a year they hold a grand gala dinner and announce their top ten power brokers in lesbian entertainment. Their membership list does in fact read like a who’s who of lesbians in showbiz, with the rather notable exception of the indisputably most powerful lesbian around, Ellen herself. These gals all got together and decided that it was time to fund a feature film. They get Jamie Babbit (But I'm a Cheerleader) to direct, which is an awfully smart move. They decide to focus on something political, something important to the lesbian community, also an excellent decision. They cast relative unknowns in the leads (besides Daniela Sea from The L Word) and reserved the powerful names for well-placed cameos (most notably Guinevere Turner, Melanie Lynskey, Jenny Schimizu and Clea DuVall). The film has some excellent street cred. So if they were going to all this effort anyway, why did they pay so little attention to the script? The credited writers are extraordinarily inexperienced and it shows to be honest. I wish Guin Turner had done less acting and more fine-tuning of the dialogue, because we know she can write, quite superbly when given a chance. What we do get is a fumbling, confused collection of scenes that seem lifted from somebody’s memoirs of their student activist days, except exaggerated by a thousand for comic effect. To the film's credit, I do think anyone who was into radical politics in their younger and wilder days would recognise something in these characters. The naïve newbie who falls for the charismatic leader of the pack. The intelligent plotter who mourns the lack of publicity despite all their efforts. The struggling artist types. I even knew the reject ex-military types who couldn’t get over the desire to blow things up. The film’s radical group is called CiA (Clits in Action), which I think would have made a far better name for the film. They mess around vandalising parks and shopfronts, including defacing the front of a breast augmentation clinic, which is where Sadie, the group’s leader, meets Anna for the first time. Anna is a confused, depressed lesbian who has just been dumped by her girlfriend and works as a receptionist at the clinic. Sadie comes along at just that time in her life when she is most susceptible (something which does wonders for the cliché of both lesbians and activists as recruiters of the young and vulnerable), and convinces her to come to a CiA meeting. Then Anna is introduced to the world of radical activism. For the next hour, as Anna is educated and blossoms, we’re given a hand-held tour through the history of the women’s movement, from references to The Feminine Mystique, to statistics on the repression of women, to a rocking soundtrack of riot grrl music (provided, it seems, almost exclusively by the Kill Rock Stars label). Anna’s education is ours as well, only for those of us who have already learned the lessons of feminism and activism, the trip down memory lane is actually slightly dull, occasionally funny, and often downright embarrassing in that cringeworthy way. IBTC kicks into gear in the third act when Anna, incensed by what she sees as Sadie’s emotional cowardice and to repent for her own bad behaviour, presents the other women of the CiA with a daring and radical plan. The plan is absurd and is carried off with enthusiasm by the cast who seem to warm into their roles as the film goes on. Even Daniela Sea, who makes me cringe every time she opens her mouth, didn’t really annoy me by the end. The love story is sweet, and the ending is utterly ridiculous, even if it does provide a few laughs. The visual feel is much like Down and Out with the Dolls. The plot is cartoonish in the same way that But I’m a Cheerleader was but without the originality, and we’re reminded quite gleefully and often that reality has no place in Jamie Babbit’s world. The slapstick comedy prevents us from really taking the politics that seriously. The love story was probably the highlight of the film, but unfortunately the low-key sex scenes will probably result in the film receiving at the very least an R-rating, if not NC-17 in the United States, which may prevent many young people from seeing it at all. The acting is of that “I’m in an indie-film and I’m reveling in it” standard we’re all used to seeing by now, which is fine at a gay film festival but it will prevent this film from receiving decent reviews anywhere but in the gay press, and the crossover potential is pretty much nil. Which is fine if that's what they were aiming for. As it is, when IBTC does get a DVD release, I recommend you invite a whole bunch of your buddies over and cackle at it together on a Saturday night, with plenty of popcorn and mob humour. I suspect this is a film best enjoyed in groups where the laughter is infectious. Keep your expectations low and your spirits high, and the experience will be positive. Unfortunately, I think that they managed, through sheer narrative
confusion, to undermine the power of the film’s message
at every turn. The final rating I'm giving IBTC
is strictly for the laughs. Forgetting the money question entirely,
I guess I just expected more from the kind of combined imaginative
power these filmmakers had available to them. Without giving too
much of the ending away, I also truly believe the lesbian community
deserved more from PowerUP than a film which is essentially the
world's longest dick joke. Got a comment? Write to me at nancyamazon@gmail.com
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