Sunday Shit Talk: On Muriel's Wedding, Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, and Self-Realization
The MUTHR, FCKRY of trying to be what we're not
I’m petite in stature. It’s genetics. My mom, dad, and I reached the exact same height, which is probably as tall as you were in the summer of 6th grade, just before hormonal shifts propelled you to your destined height. Me? I got to that height around the same time and, very gradually, barely made it another scant inch.
When we meet for the first time, people constantly tell me they assumed I was much taller. This inevitably surprises me because I never, ever (except for right now, maybe), think about my height. It’s just what is. I mean, it’s not like anything can be done about it. My days of teetering around in platforms—or trying to fruitlessly hoodwink others into thinking I am taller—are over, unless I’m trying to pull off a lewk of some kind. I’d rather revel in the ecstasy of dancing my ass off at a party than wear shoes I can’t dance in.
It’s not like I can get leg extensions, so what good could possibly come from wishing I was taller? How much of my valuable energy would be wasted trying to squish my raw dogs into stilettos so the rods and cones in someone else’s face would perceive me as someone I am not? How much of my valuable energy would be wasted if I was trying to convince myself I’m someone I am not?
There aren’t enough hours in the day to do all the shit I want and need to do and, at the end of that day, whatever shoes I wear will come off and I’ll still be 5’ 2” (when my back is cracked). I am who I am. And my ultimate priority is showing every square inch of that gal a really good time.
On that tip, have you seen Muriel’s Wedding? It’s coming off of Netflix soon, so if you’ve yet to bear witness to the then-emerging talent of Toni Collette, please do. Talk about MUTHR, FCKD.
Released in 1994, Muriel’s Wedding is a testament to dark Australian humor. Starring Toni Collette, Rachel Griffiths, and Bill Hunter (from another Aussie delight, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert), the plot centers around Muriel, a young woman desperate to figure out who she really is, what she really wants, and where she really wants to be. She escapes into a fangirl obsession with Abba (90s Ozzies seem to have a big thing for Abba—it’s also a theme in Priscilla) to ease the cruelty she’s constantly subjected to in her hometown of Porpoise Spit (yes, Porpoise Spit), by her corrupt, emotionally abusive politician father and the asshole mean girls she wishes would accept her. Eventually, Muriel meets an old high school acquaintance Rhonda who is shockingly comfortable in her own skin—something Muriel sees for the first time—and they become fast friends. She also meets a guy who really cares for her.
The film effectively touches on many of the ways women have been conditioned to pit themselves against each other. It takes a turn when Rhonda is discovered to have cancer. Muriel finally meets a hot guy (not the guy who cares for her) and has the wedding of her dreams, but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. So focused on finally impressing her father and the mean girls, she neglects those who really love her (especially her MUTHR), and tragic events ensue that force her to take a hard look at why she’s prioritized impressing those she never could over her own joy. Inevitably, Muriel learns how to find and respect her voice, how to honor those who care for her, and revels in her own inner Abba. The trailer doesn’t do it justice: her redemption arc is incredibly gratifying to witness.
Warning: Don’t you dare watch this flick without tissues. No, no, FCK no. If you don’t ugly cry, I’ll be called to question if you have a pulse.
In more MUTHRS, FCKNG, have you seen The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives? OMFG.
As your devout (see what I did there?) cultural etiologist, I donned my gown and rubber gloves and went in to do your dirty work. It’s a cautionary testament (there I go again!) to what could happen to so many women should not enough of us go out and vote for Kamala this November: A patriarchal religiously oppressive society that disempowers women, where Gen Z babies (“we never learned about birth control!”) have babies and dump those babies on their Gen X parents so they can make all the mistakes they rightfully should when they are 23 or whatever.
The plot: A group of very young Salt Lake City-raised Mormon women became sexy TikTokers and created #MomTok, a vehicle that deploys their youthful good looks into massively popular videos and lucrative brand deals, sometimes outearning their erstwhile Mormon husbands. When lead #MomTalker Taylor Frankie Paul goes rogue and admits its members took part in “soft swinging” parties with other Mormon couples, their friendships and marriages go to shit, serving as the springboard for the collective madness to follow in the form of divorces, fractured friendships and familial relationships, unplanned pregnancies, and arrests.
Think of it as the underclass Real Housewives of Salt Lake City (premiering this week, thank GAWD). Fans of that show will find this one bestows them with a stronger understanding of the Whitney and Heather of it all; the propensity to chase the artificial and identical perfect image they think appeals to men, all pert noses, hair, and nail extensions, enhanced bodies made exclusively for FCKNG and breeding, and thus allow competitiveness fuel them to turn on each other and themselves. Good luck telling them apart! It also addresses the toxic pressure cooker of living within patriarchal constraints, and how young FCKD MUTHRS will inevitably respond to those constraints in the age of social media. As we all are wont to do, they will grab a phone and an app and attempt to redefine themselves in a way that buys them some semblance of freedom.
All in all, it’s absurdly ridiculous TV. On a recent episode of the podcast Bitch Sesh, host Danielle Schneider referred to it as the “perfect Covid companion” and I’m inclined to agree. Our active brains were made for so much better but, when nothing up there is working anyway, you can while away the hours knowing it will pass through your ears quickly.
Until next time!
xx
MF