Robot Women in Science Fiction, From Blade Runner to Westworld

2022-05-21 03:29:50 By : Ms. Miley Liu

Manufactured women cater to male fantasies, but with all film tropes, this can be subverted, criticized, and destroyed altogether. 

What are Women? Creators? Progenitors? Rebels? Disrupters? Soldiers? Objects? Are women ever really just people? Are they even human at all? In looking at science fiction films and television, women often lack depth and humanity in the literal sense, assuming the role of the artificially created Manufactured Woman: the clone, the replica, the robotic woman. Think Rachael (Sean Young) from the original Blade Runner, or one of the many leading women in Westworld. The manufactured woman stands in contrast to her human, usually male counterpart; beautiful yet unworldly, dangerous yet vulnerable, sexualized yet infantilized. She is often created by men for the purpose of men’s pleasure, and as she struggles to retain her agency and autonomy, she may find herself on the path to revolution. Manufactured women cater to male fantasies, but with all film tropes, this can be subverted, criticized, and destroyed altogether.

The trope of the Manufactured Woman can be traced back to early Silent era films, specifically Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. One of the emblematic images of Science Fiction is Metropolis’ ‘The Machine Man’ (Brigette Helm), an erroneous name as the machine is clearly female by design. Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge) creates ‘The Machine (Wo)Man’ in the likeness of working-class revolutionary Maria (Brigette Helm), to destroy Metropolis from within. The false Maria leads the working class down a path of destruction until they eventually revolt and burn her at the stake, a rather gendered form of violence. The prophesized unifier of the classes, Freder (Gustav Fröhlich), prevents Rotwang’s plan from coming to fruition and fulfills his destiny. While Metropolis’ promotion of the male Messiah and the female False Prophet is certainly indicative of its time, it instigates a long-held trope for the Manufactured Woman as an unstable yet inherently revolutionary threat.

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Ridley Scott’s cyberpunk, neo-noir thriller, Blade Runner, codified the trope, following Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) he hunts down bioengineered humanoid beings known as ‘Replicants’. Eldon Tyrell (Joe Turkel), the CEO of the company that creates Replicants, tasks Deckard with testing his assistant Rachael, to distinguish whether or not she is a Replicant. Deckard concludes that Rachael is a Replicant who believes she is human, and Tyrell explains that she was given false memories as an experimental model. Once more, a creator-patriarch has designed a Manufactured Woman, and Rachael’s role goes beyond a mere assistant. She is later forcibly restrained and kissed by Deckard, her lack of consent a point of criticism, and is through their relationship that her true ‘purpose’ is later unveiled.

In Denis Villeneuve’s sequel, Blade Runner 2049, Replicants have become more integrated into human society, though they remain second-class citizens. While, the Replicant ‘K’ (Ryan Gosling) inherits Deckard’s role as a Blade Runner, manufactured women in 2049 occupy differing roles; sexualized, militarized, and even messianic. ‘Joi’ (Ana de Armas), a hologram based on a 1950s housewife, acts as ‘K’s artificial girlfriend, providing him with his only emotional companionship. To provide for his physical ‘needs’, she hires Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), a Replicant prostitute, and the two ‘merge’ into one being for K to sleep with.

Despite K also being a manufactured being, it’s Joi and Mariette who occupy sexual roles, as staple products of their society consumed by male Replicants and humans alike. K’s dubiously consensual relationships parallel Deckard’s and Rachael’s, as the question of the manufactured women’s sexual autonomy is never sufficiently explored. However, Blade Runner 2049 does subvert certain tropes, as Dr. Ana Stelline (Carla Juri) is revealed to be the born-Replicant, the daughter of Rachael and Deckard, rather than the male protagonist. Arguably, Rachel’s eventual role as a progenitor of a new race conveys society’s deep-seated concern with women’s reproductive capabilities, seeking to either control or otherwise eradicate it.

Luc Besson’s The Fifth Element is much less subversive, playing the trope of the sexualized, Manufactured Woman straight. In the year 2263, Leeloo (Milla Jovovich), a humanoid being, is recreated by (male) scientists to defeat the ‘Great Evil’. Leeloo escapes her confines in nothing more than a thread-bare skin suit until crashing into Korben Dallas (Bruce Willis). When Leelo later gives up on humanity, it’s Dallas’ kiss and declaration of love that allows her to fulfill her destiny. Leeloo, who lacks proper communicative abilities and often acts with childlike wonder and vulnerability, is at odds with her heavily sexualized appearances that undoubtedly cater to male fantasies. Leeloo doesn’t lack any agency whatsoever, but to be liberated from the scientists only to immediately land in Dallas’ lap speaks to her, and other manufactured women’s, limited independence from male influences.

Westworld (2016) has become the archetypal science fiction series dealing with the question of artificial beings, and its longevity has provided previously unafforded depth to its manufactured women. In its opening scene, lovers Dolores Abernathy (Evan Rachel Wood) and Teddy Flood (James Marsden) are interrupted by the mysterious Man in Black (Ed Harris). Westworld’s sadistic rules are immediately revealed, as the Man in Black effortlessly ‘kills’ Teddy before dragging off Dolores to rape as he has apparently been doing for thirty years. Immediately, sexual abuse is shown to be a staple of Westworld and as the artificial beings and their creators are slowly unveiled, the audience comes to understand that manufactured women have a specific role to play.

These women are designed as sexual objects to consume, whether as prostitutes like Maeve Millay (Thandiwe Newton) and Clementine Pennyfeather (Angela Sarafyan) or as the girl-next-door type like Dolores. The pain and suffering of these Manufactured Women are real because their male creators have specifically designed them to be. Despite this, the inherently revolutionary nature of these women is made apparent, as the narrative focuses on Dolores and Maeve’s struggle for liberation from humans. The desire for independence is inextricably linked with female nature, and perhaps a reflection of the show’s creator, Lisa Joy’s own ideals.

Of all the films and series discussed, Alex Garland’s Ex-Machina manages to stand apart as misogyny is not simply a part of the science-fiction setting but the center of it. In Ex-Machina, the manufactured women revolt against their creator-patriarch's intent and assert their autonomy regardless of their lack of ‘humanity’. The film is a sharp criticism of both male oppressors and so-called male saviors, with both Nathan Bateman's (Oscar Isaac) and Caleb Smith’s (Domhnall Gleeson) attitudes to the artificial Ava (Alicia Vikander) shown as self-serving. Caleb initially seems to be Ava’s ally against Bateman, as is he horrified upon finding out that Bateman’s server and forced bedmate, Kyoko (Sonoya Mizuno), is another artificial being. By centering on Kyoko’s abuse the film condemns past sexualizations of manufactured women, and even alludes to the fetishization of East Asian women by Western men.

The film’s true brilliance lies in the reveal that Caleb is equally as duplicitous as Bateman, seeking to liberate Ava on his own terms after he has grown attached to her. But Ava is miles ahead of him, predicting and utilizing Caleb’s (highly sexual) attachment to her own advantage, and only to later abandon her attached male companion. Ex-Machina concludes with Ava blending in with human society, Caleb and Bateman long-forgotten. Ava doesn’t end up as a revolutionary or the progenitor of a new race. She is simply a woman, free from any male influence. Perhaps this is the ultimate female fantasy; anonymity in a world that doesn’t debate your very existence.

Violetta Katsaris a Sydney-based TV/Film Feature at Collider. She is a big fan of Feminist sci-fi/horror films and is always on the lookout for any new recommendations. She could go on for days about the thematic connections between Perfect Blue and Black Swan.

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