Yeah, that’s right, I haven’t written anything for a month and here I am, bringing it back with a blog post about Chicken Run.
The night before Father’s Day, I returned to my parents’ house with my brother to anticipate their return from a holiday the following morning, and cook a slap up meal for them (by which I mean a very average spaghetti bolognaise with no salad because I forgot to make it even though I had one job).
With the house to ourselves for the night, what did we do? Ring up all our mates that we went to school with and have them round for a wild house party? Hell no. After a stressful half an hour involving a takeaway and my brother slicing his toenail off, we decided to watch a classic film from our childhood. Yep, you guessed it, pal – that staple Aardman Animations classic, Chicken Run. And about halfway through, I realised – damn, this is actually feminist as fuck.
First of all, let’s look at the entire concept of this film – it’s obviously based on The Great Escape, a film with an all-male cast, and typically male, macho themes. Y’know, like war, Nazis, and tunnels. Chicken Run takes this concept and gives it a female spin, showing that women (or rather, hens – but let’s be real, the whole of womanhood is represented in this film) can be totally badass.
I mean, you KNOW this shit passes the Bechdel test. In fact, it doesn’t just pass the Bechdel test, it sasses past it in six inch heels, then jumps on a motorbike and leaves it choking on its dust, never to call it again. The women (sorry, hens) in this film don’t just hold conversations that don’t further a man’s plot – the entirety of their conversations revolves around furthering their own.
Next – the few male characters. Literally every male character in this was fucking useless.
Tweeds… you ok hun? Your wife is literally walking ALL over you. Mr Tweedy was the definition of spineless. He tried his best, but he still got outsmarted by a bunch of chickens for God’s sake.
THE ABSOLUTE DEFINITION OF A FUCKBOY. I’m still mad that Ginger took him back. After a brief stint of bullshitting to women to get them to sleep with him (lets be real here, that was his game), it turned out that actually, he wasn’t all that. In fact, he wasn’t anything. Just a liar who couldn’t fly. He serves as the perfect example to demonstrate the fact that most of the time, women are better off doing things themselves than relying on men.
Literally spent the whole film going on about how he served in the RAF, only to let everyone down when they were counting on him because it turned out he’d never even flew. #FAKENEWS #Sad!
Nick and Fetcher
I mean…these two were just thick as shit.
In contrast, Ginger and Mac were the epitome of BOSS. Ginger had the bravery, the sass, the determination – she got thrown in that isolation box like thirty times or something mad, and a la Chumbawumba was all ‘I GET KNOCKED DOWN, BUT I GET UP AGAIN’, and basically was the driving force behind the whole thing. Then Mac, who let’s be honest probably was the inspiration for the make up brand or should at least have a palette named after her, was the Scottish genius whose brains saved the whole operation. And even though she was evil as shit, Mrs Tweedy was a strong independent woman who definitely did not need a man and in fact was probably better off without one.
Throughout the film, these hens are treated like shit, are massively played by Rocky, lied to by Fowler, used for eggs by Nick and Fetcher, and ALMOST TURNED INTO PIES. But do they give up? NO. They fly their way out of there in a plane they built themselves, despite all the men almost ruining everything on multiple occasions. Their eggs, a true symbol of their femininity if there ever was one, are revered as absolute treasure.
In short, these hens, or should I say GODDESSES, are a true testament to the power of women, and Lord praise Aardman Animations for blessing us with this cinematic, feminist masterpiece.