Editing Unravelled by a Shopaholic Thread

Dear Readers,
Now, generally, I do not need an excuse to explain why women are better than men, but today I decided to analyze just one of the myriad ways in which we are the superior gender. Women are amazing editors, film or otherwise. Quite simply, we were genetically preconditioned to do it. Let me explain...

It all comes down to shopping.

How does a man shop? He goes to Store A. One of two things happen here. If he likes something in Store A, he buys it. End of story. If not, he goes to store B and continues his focused search there. The story goes on like this. He finds what he wants and he leaves; the mission has been accomplished, Houston.

And how does a woman shop? She goes to the mall. She examines every corner of every store that sells the item she seeks, and is within (and sometimes beyond) her budget. After weighing up all the options, she returns to the store with the best version of the item and buys it, even if it is Store A itself. She does not see this as a waste of time. It's (market) research.

Why do we do this? Because we are trained to. Back when we all lived in caves and had no eBay, we had to fend for ourselves, and we all know who the hunters and who the gatherers were. And as gatherers, women did a damn good job of it. We examined the options and choose the vegetation least likely to kill us and most yummy to eat. Or something like that. Basically, we did then what we do now in malls.

And this brings me to the neat conclusion of my point. Women are great editors because when it comes to choosing the best take of a shot, or the best word to replace in a paragraph, we look at EVERY possible option before making a choice. We have the patience and energy for this and indeed most women relish it. Most men pick the first one that looks or sounds good and move on. In that way, women are better perfectionists and sticklers for detail. This could also explain why we like cushions, dessert forks and napkin rings, but more on that another day. For today, I have had my say on this soapbox of a blog. and now I am off to do what my gender does best-back to the drawing board. :)

gk*

ROSALIND: To you I give myself, for I am yours.

ROSALIND: [To ORLANDO] To you I give myself, for I am yours.

Indeed. Rosalind was right all along. Do what it takes to get the man of your dreams. Even if it means dressing up as one. But in an actual Elizabethan production, it would have been a little more complicated, because women's roles were in fact played by adolescent boys. So the audience would see a boy, impersonating a woman impersonating a boy. Tricky?

But in As You Like It, Rosalind also keeps wearing her disguise long after she has to. Why? Some critics claim it is because of the freedom it gives her. In her male persona, she escapes the limitations of being a woman, the obvious object of Orlando's love and that in the process, she learns a lot about herself, about him, and about the nature of love itself.

That could just be critics being critics. I doubt that Shakespeare ever thought of gender conventions while writing his plays, because his target audience saw them as pure entertainment, a bit like masala Bollywood films. Rosalind is an amusing character, and her male guise allows her to have the kind of cheeky fun that would not have been possible if she was openly female. She doesn't show her true identity because it's much more entertaining for her to go on fooling people. Would an actual woman behave like that in Shakespeare's time? Definitely not, but that's exactly what makes the play amusing to watch.

However, the play is not all fun and games; the comedy does, in fact, make some clever observations about real male-female interaction, and the games we play, both psychological and emotional. Because it wouldn't be as funny if it was all make-believe, like A Comedy of Errors and Two Gentlemen of Verona are.

Now, back to the opening line. This post wouldn't be a post if it wasn't circular, right? :) What did she actually mean by it? Wasn't it more than just pledging to be Orlando's wife, as a sort of informal wedding vow? Because she hardly says three lines after these in the play, mutely accepting her place as devoted daughter and wife. We are led to believe that Orlando must be taught that love is a madness, of which he must be cured, not of loving Rosalind, but of worshiping her with unrealistic expectations, that will only lead to disillusionment. And surely, by the end, he has learnt this.

But how did the cheeky trouble-maker make the rapid transition? Or is there still a sly glint in her eye as the curtain comes down? Maybe she has also collected a lesson or two on love, along the way. Perhaps she is 'his', in that she has finally understood him and love in a way that she can truly offer herself to him, who knew not if her reciprocal feelings. In essence, she is already his, from the moment she understands the nature of love itself, not by knowing that he feels the same. And this is the ultimate moment of revelation to both him and her father, of gender, of identity and of love.

gk*