In terms of criminally underrated films, one need look no further than Ridley Scott’s 1997 war drama G.I. Jane, starring Demi Moore. Although the actress’ repertoire of ‘90s films that pushed the envelope were not always successful one way or another (see also: Indecent Proposal, Disclosure and Striptease), it’s worth noting that the decade’s cultural attitude towards feminism’s emerging third wave often did more damage than good in terms of Moore’s more provocative films. In other words, critics’ tendency to attack and blame the actress herself for these films’ shortcomings now reads as exceptionally harsh and problematic, especially in regard to G.I. Jane.
It cannot be stated enough: G.I. Jane is a confrontational film that was made to push boundaries. This is not only because its plot focuses on the first woman to undergo special operations training to become a Navy SEAL. It’s because both the character and ultimately Moore herself would become the poster child for gender disparity in the U.S. workforce, when the film’s content was barely equipped to handle just a woman in the Navy. This is not to say that G.I. Jane fails as a deep-dive into the gender politics of the United States Army. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s just that the boundaries that the film sought to push were not necessarily ones that the ‘90s were ready to explore—despite the decade’s supposedly welcoming attitude towards gender equality—and both G.I. Jane and Demi Moore suffered because of it.
Moore stars as Lieutenant Jordan O’Neil, someone considered more physically feminine than other candidates for the coveted spot of the first woman to enter special operations training. G.I. Jane ultimately becomes a journey of just how many people can one woman prove wrong, as well as a showcase of the physical and mental training the actress had to go through to become the character. Entertainment Weekly wrote at the time that the role fit her “as snugly as a new layer of muscle,” a character with more meat on her bones—figuratively and literally—than perhaps her more sexualized roles in Disclosure or Striptease. As much as third-wave feminism was all about women having their cake and eating it too, that concept evidently only went so far.
Striptease, while colossally panned by critics, was still a moderate commercial success, aided by the premise of a conventionally attractive star like Moore playing a stripper with the promise of a topless scene. Disclosure or even Indecent Proposal, while providing some daring social commentary for the era, also played largely upon Moore’s secondary sex characteristics—to the point of the star feeling forced to adopt unhealthy exercise regimens and diets to feel attractive and worthy enough on the screen, according to her 2019 memoir. (Thanks for that, Adrian Lyne.)
But as soon as she has to get into incredible physical shape to play a woman like Lieutenant O’Neil, who is attempting to smash the patriarchy and prove haters wrong, moviegoers were supposedly less interested in a more masculine version of Moore. Despite bathtub scenes and plenty of skin, G.I. Jane only made $48.2 million on a $50 million budget, making it a box office disappointment. And even though Moore’s skills as an actress were certainly not at fault, the female star is always the easiest scapegoat: she won the Golden Raspberry Award for Worst Actress, whatever that means.
Listen. Is G.I. Jane a perfect film? No. It is easy to understand why it received mixed reviews and was perhaps a bit “too much” for audiences in 1997? Absolutely. But give Moore her due for the immense physical work she did in preparation for it, at the very least. You don’t have to like her performance—even though it’s definitely among her best and, in a perfect world, would have gotten her a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actress. It’s appalling that the film has yet to acquire its own cult following as a feminist classic, since it would most certainly have earned that label if released today.
Would it have ever received universal acclaim in any time period? Of course not. Media and culture are always going to find a reason to poke holes in feminism and proper representation. Imagine if Lieutenant O’Neil wasn’t a cis-gendered white woman, for example. But if anyone ever makes you feel like you can’t do something, pull up a clip of the scene in G.I. Jane when she goes into an empty barbershop to boldly shave off all her hair before carrying on. Maybe we wouldn’t have made fun of Britney so much for it if we’d been paying attention in the ‘90s.
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