Strange Justice's Strange Sexual Politics
Do the makers of Strange Justice , Showtime's dramatization of a 1994
book about the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill episode, have secret Republican envy?
The TV movie (which airs this Sunday at 8 p.m.) has already been criticized for
its pro-Hill bias, as the book was. Like the book, the movie sides
substantially with Hill. The book marshaled mountains of evidence to show that
Hill was telling the truth when she said Thomas sexually harassed her and that
Thomas was lying when he denied it. The movie leaves out the evidence but
contrasts their behavior during the confirmation hearings. Hill is a
thoughtful, self-searching, dignified, and reluctant witness. Thomas is a
cipher, a man who lets himself be used as a pawn until he erupts in an
unconvincing fit of rage before the Senate Confirmation Committee.
A triumph for Democrats and feminists everywhere? Not exactly. Consider the
puzzling way the movie depicts the sexual lives of its characters. The
anti-hero of the movie is Kenneth Duberstein (Mandy Patinkin), the
Machiavellian strategist who shepherded the candidate through the nomination
process. A charismatic if not particularly sympathetic man, he gets most of the
screen time, along with Thomas (Delroy Lindo). Both he and Thomas spend a lot
of time at their respective homes, where they enjoy the fruits of
Republican-style marriages. Their wives are sweet, loving, and endlessly
supportive. Duberstein's wife gives him a pep talk in bed when he worries that
Anita Hill might derail the nomination. Thomas' wife cradles him in her arms
when he collapses in their bathroom; she calls him a warrior for God. In
addition, Duberstein has a beautiful blonde assistant who dutifully tracks poll
ratings, digs up dirt on Thomas' opponents, shakes her head at Hill's
incomprehensible charges, and beams in delight when Thomas is confirmed.
There are two intriguing cracks in this portrait of happy female
subservience. During a visit the assistant, her boss, and Thomas make to Vernon
Jordan, she is all but sexually harassed by the Democratic power broker--he
kisses her as he takes his leave and calls her "sweetheart." She is
blank-faced, and no one says a word. Later, during Hill's testimony, Mrs.
Duberstein calls her husband to tell him that she can't understand why Hill
would have come forward if she weren't telling the truth. He sighs. Once these
moments pass, it is as if they never happened. The women never mention them
again, nor do they break ranks with their boss or husband over Hill.
On the other side of the fence are Hill and her supporters, a coven of
female law professors and senatorial aides. All of them seem to be single women
(some of them may have husbands, but we never see them); all of them dress in
power suits. None is shown at home. They congregate in Hill's hotel room or
maneuver behind the scenes of the confirmation hearing. They have neither
cheery helpmeets, nor, as Duberstein points out, any idea how to win.
Which would you rather be--a powerful Republican with a lovely, caring
spouse or a lonely Democratic loser, a feminist with no life? The writers and
producers of Strange Justice seem to have made their preferences
unwittingly clear.
