What is Tom Hiddleston doing?
A couple of years ago, when I was still at Madonna, I
succumbed to the internet fad that was Tom Hiddleston. At the time, he was the
God of the Internet, the Lord of Television, the Next Wonder of the Known World.
However, it is startling how quickly the internet
dismisses its former gods. Hardly anybody reblogs Hiddleston’s beautiful face
anymore on tumblr. The internet has abandoned Hiddleston for greener pastures. Like
the theory that Ted Cruz is the Zodiac Killer.
What is not to
like about T. Hiddles? He is a self-proclaimed feminist. He reads poetry. He
looks at people like they’re the answer to life. He wears blue shirts and,
against his red hair, he looks like a sun rising. Basically, Tom Hiddleston
checks every box on my “Rebekah’s Sensible Qualities To Look For In The Male
Species,” and almost every box on “Rebekah’s Probably Outlandish Qualities To
Expect In Men.”
However, I am getting tired of Tom Hiddleston. He’s
starting to uncheck all of my boxes pretty quickly.
And the first box to go was “self-proclaimed
feminist.”
Just recently, Hiddleston acted in a six-part
miniseries called The Night Manager,
also staring Hugh Laurie of House fame.
Laurie wrote the series, I believe, and acted as The Bad Guy, whilst T. Hiddles
acted as The Good Guy. Names of characters mean nothing to me at this point,
because I only watched three episodes, and because my father referred to the
actors as “The Night Manager,” (aka Tom Hiddleston) “The Bad Guy,” (or Hugh
Laurie) and “The Girl” (whose name I don’t know because she’s a girl and
therefore her name doesn’t get put into the commercials).
God, the series was dreadful. It is probably what
psychologists call a man’s fantasy. Hugh Laurie’s character assists an Egyptian
man in a business deal for explosives during Arab Spring (the purpose of which
I have yet to understand). The Egyptian keeps a mistress at the posh Egyptian
hotel where Hiddleston works as the Night Manager. The mistress, overcome with
Hiddleston’s good looks, gives him state secrets, and therefore her boyfriend
arranges to have her brutally murdered. Hiddleston does his best to protect
her, but alas! The episode ends with Hiddleston kneeling over her broken and
bleeding body, swearing revenge against not
the Egyptian lover, but Hugh Laurie.
Forsworn, like Scott’s de Bois-Gilbert, to Never
Ever Ever Love again after the love of his life (who he had known maybe three
days) dies, Hiddleston leaves Egypt, which is forever stained for him now his
beloved exotic lady is dead. However, through a series of very boring
happenstances, Hiddleston and Laurie meet again, and M16 offers Hiddleston the
chance to get Laurie back by going deep undercover as one of Laurie’s men.
Hiddleston gets undercover, and is given one
command: Don’t mess with Laurie’s Girl. Because girls aren’t allowed to choose
who they sleep with, and boys are animals unable to keep it in their pants.
It was about this point I stopped watching, because
there were two girls in the series (“the hot one” and “the smart one,” except
Hiddleston was clearly much smarter than “the smart one” which kind of defeats
the point), the plot was stupid, and I was getting a definitive “No Girls Allowed”
vibe.
This vibe, coming from writer Hugh Laurie, does not
surprise me. The man starred on House,
after all, which has all of zero female role models. (Yes, you heard me, I said
ZERO.) This coming from Tom Hiddleston does. He told us he was a feminist. He
has one of those “This Is What a Feminist Looks Like” t-shirts.
Does being a feminist mean it is still okay to act
in shows that are directly misogynistic? I don’t think so.
Hiddleston’s disastrous performance in The Night Manager is followed by the
news that he may be playing our next James Bond which, of course, is a nail in
his coffin. As James Bond, Hiddleston would merely continue playing the
misogynistic suit that is Bond: Love ’em, Leave ’em, Blow some stuff up.
Why would I want to watch this? If I want to watch
some stuff blow up epically, then I’m going to watch Mad Max: Fury Road. I don’t see any appeal in watching Hiddleston-as-Bond
woo, sleep with, and leave “The Hot Chick” without once looking back. That’s
not just the romantic in me talking. That’s the “Please have the decency to
treat women like human beings” in me.
And I do wonder, now, how much of that
handsome-feminist-Shakespeare-fanatic box-checking was manufactured by
Hiddleston to gain followers while he had the spotlight. Is he really a
feminist? And does being a feminist mean turning down roles like the ones
Hiddleston played in The Night Manager and
by turning down the chance to be Bond? Does it mean sticking to his other, stranger
movies, like The Only Lovers Left Alive and
Crimson Peak?
It seems cruel to pigeonhole Hiddleston to the roles
that I approve of—but at the same time, I can’t believe that a feminist would
get much enjoyment out of belittling women on television. Maybe playing Henry V
in The Hollow Crown got Hiddleston
less money than playing James Bond would, but I have to believe the experience
would be better, the pay more rewarding, and the knowledge that he is staying
true to his feminist ideals would be more important than raking in an extra
million on opening day.
Tom Hiddleston is just a whole lot less attractive
to me now than when he debuted as Loki. I can’t be sure he’s a feminist. The fact
that he’s at least ten years older than me and possibly dating Taylor Swift
(which for some reason feels gross, even though I’m sure the age range is
suitable).
Dr. Mack said that the problem with artists is that
we, the consumers, like to keep them where we found them: No branching out, no
trying anything new. And Tom Hiddleston is trying something new, and I hate it.
I feel guilty and conflicted about hating it. But at the same time, I honestly
believe that if someone or something isn’t up to my feminist standards (i.e., “Am
I portrayed as an actual human being and could not feasibly be replaced by a
lamp?”) then I don’t have to waste my time on it.
Tom Hiddleston, I have annoyed my friends for many
years by boldly proclaiming you were the only man I’d ever marry. However,
after several years, I’m sorry to say—I’m filing for divorce. Because for me, “new
directions” does not necessarily equal “abandoning feminist sensibilities.”
Good luck with your new movies, T. Hiddles. Call me
if you’re ever in Michigan. We can work this out.
Probably.
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