There’s a certain kind of discomfort that comes with witnessing a woman on screen. Not the melodramatic, over-the-top kind of discomfort, but something quieter, more insidious—an uncomfortable truth that lurks beneath the surface. Films like Be Pretty and Shut Up! (1981), One Sings, the Other Doesn't (1977), Meshes of the Afternoon (1943), and the many others in this list, offer us a glimpse into the fractured world women are forced to navigate every day. These films don’t just depict women as characters; they expose the cultural violence they endure, the ways in which women’s lives are shaped, limited, and controlled by societal expectations. Whether it’s the suffocating pressure to be beautiful yet silent, the constant erasure of their autonomy, or the quiet revolt against a world that demands their passivity, these films remind us that women are never truly free in a patriarchal world. The discomfort they provoke is not just about the pain women feel—it’s about how that pain is woven into the very fabric of our culture. And in that discomfort, there is power: the power to question, to resist, and to reclaim our stories. Here are fifteen films that hold a mirror to the female psyche.
Be Pretty and Shut Up! (1981) Directed by Delphine Seyrig, Editing and Cinematography by Carole Roussopoulos
Be Pretty and Shut Up! is an exercise in discomfort. It’s uncomfortable not in the obvious, melodramatic sense of “oh, she’s being mistreated,” but in a much subtler, much more insidious way. The forces acting upon the female body and mind are often so deeply woven into the fabric of culture, society, and individual self-image that they’re invisible at first. And that’s where Delphine Seyrig, both as the director and the star, nails it: her performance doesn’t scream; it smolders. It’s passive, it’s measured, it’s almost too controlled to be real, which is exactly the point. The film lays bare the subtle and pervasive violence of cultural expectations for women—the violence of being too much and yet never enough at the same time. Seyrig’s portrayal of a woman who exists in a world that is constantly dictating her value based on her appearance is, for lack of a better word, surgical. She cuts through the surface-level notion of beauty as empowerment and pulls out the guttural, rotting core of it all: how beauty is actually a trap, a convenient little box that the world wants women to remain in, forever. Seyrig isn’t just acting here; she’s offering a blistering commentary on the performative aspects of femininity, on the coded violence of the phrase “Be pretty and shut up.”
Wanda (1970) Written, Directed, and Starring Barbara Loden
Writer-director-star Barbara Loden is Wanda, a penniless woman who has left her husband and two kids, yet we are introduced to her in a semi-unconventional light. She is not some romanticized, independent woman whose pain and distress is glamorized (such as, say, Virginia Woolf or Marilyn Monroe), but one who is all the way familiar with the feeling of being defined by her material circumstances. Barbara Loden finds a clear, tangible balance between her character as Wanda, and her actual psyche as herself, Barbara. There are many times where she is hardly acting, but rather just existing as a woman through loneliness and hopelessness. Although Loden was never able to make another film because of her death just one decade after Wanda, the film is engulfed in the roots of feminism. We do not get a happy ending. In fact, there is nothing happy about this film at all. However, if one thing is clear, it’s that Wanda is not just about Loden’s experience as a woman, but the general population’s as well — those who have been wronged and silenced.
Daisies (1966) Directed by Vera Chytilová, Written by Vera Chytilová and Ester Krumbachová
High-pitched, loud, sometimes abrasive conversations. Girlish giggles. Flowers, butterflies, food, and trees fill the frame. In Daisies, we follow two young girls, Marie #1 and Marie #2, as they get into trouble, behave destructively, and carry out every action with a hedonistic, yet feminine point of view. Men are an afterthought, and that is exactly what makes Daisies so important. Chytilová, the writer and director, takes everything ‘girly’ and ‘spoiled’ and presents it to us in full; we have no choice but to embrace these two Maries. Though made in 1966, the film serves as a clear reflection of our own annoyance towards our government and society, with the lack willingness to fix the problems that have been created. The way Chytilová navigates the idea of angriness and displeasure is painted in bright colors and experimental editing, yet we still can not draw away from the fact that Daisies is one of the angriest films ever made.
Real Women Have Curves (2002) Directed by Patricia Cardoso, Written by Josefina López
Real Women Have Curves (2002), directed by Patricia Cardoso, is a breakthrough film that tackles the complexities of body image, cultural expectations, and generational divides through the lens of a young Mexican-American woman, Ana (played by America Ferrera), navigating her identity in a world that constantly tells her she doesn’t fit the mold. Written by Josefina López, the film is a radical, tender exploration of self-acceptance, family dynamics, and the pressures women face to conform to an idealized version of beauty. It’s especially vital because it was directed by a woman—Cardoso brings a rich, authentic sensibility to the portrayal of Ana’s struggle, presenting a nuanced, empathetic perspective on the challenges women face when they’re told their bodies don’t measure up to societal expectations. The beauty of Real Women Have Curves is in its refusal to sensationalize or dramatize Ana’s journey; it’s not about a single transformative moment, but a series of everyday struggles, from trying to assert her independence to grappling with the weight of her family’s expectations. The film’s feminist strength lies in its celebration of a woman’s body—not as an object of desire, but as a source of power and self-worth, challenging the toxic standards of beauty that often dominate mainstream media.
Thelma and Louise (1991) Written by Callie Khouri
Thelma & Louise (1991) is important not just because it breaks the mold of what a female-driven film can be, but because it confronts an entire cultural calculus that has, for generations, defined women as peripheral, passive, decorative. What Ridley Scott’s film does—what makes it revolutionary—is not simply that it offers two women who actively reject their prescribed societal roles, but that it doesn’t stop there. It flips the script on female agency, exposing how ingrained and insidious gender norms really are—norms that tell women to be silent, pretty, accommodating, until they’re not useful, and then to be punished for it. Khouri's script doesn’t pander to the conventional idea that women are either sidekicks or passive victims; instead, it gives us two deeply flawed women who choose to step outside the boundaries imposed upon them. Thelma and Louise are anything but heroic in the classical sense—they’re messy, scared, impulsive, but alive in ways that their previous lives, constrained by the expectations of men, never allowed. Their journey is not romanticized; it’s brutal, tragic, and ultimately self-determined. It’s a film that dismantles the notion that women must apologize for their autonomy, or that their stories can only be validated through male approval. Thelma & Louise challenges the viewer to ask: What happens when women stop asking for permission?
The Consequences of Feminism (1906) Directed by Alice Guy-Blaché
Alice Guy-Blaché’s seven-minute short from the early 1900s raises an extremely valuable and curious question that is still asked to this day: Will men tolerate a society in which they do not have the upper hand? We watch as women smoke cigarettes and get into useless fights, while effeminate men sew and take children on strolls. It’s filmed with such a tone in which you’d assume the current society would have known better, knowing that the way they treat women is oppressive. The truth seems — society has always known this, it just took a courageous woman to put it on screen. Guy-Blaché’s antique piece of art is more than just a spearhead; it’s a peek into a hierarchical world where power dominates gender, one we are oddly familiar with.
Rye Lane (2023) Directed by Raine Allen-Miller
Rye Lane (2023), directed by Raine Allen-Miller, isn’t just another rom-com. It’s a smart, vibrant, and unapologetically messy exploration of heartbreak, healing, and the weirdness of modern relationships—one that redefines what it means to “move on” and what love actually feels like. The film follows two young Londoners—Dom (David Jonsson) and Yas (Khadija Mohammed)—who meet after both having recently gone through difficult breakups. The brilliance of Allen-Miller’s direction is how she breathes life into the world of Rye Lane—the bustling London setting, the humor, the quick-paced editing—all work to keep the energy up while still allowing for emotional depth. Yas doesn’t need a man to validate her journey of self-discovery, but neither is she demonized for having emotional messiness or needing help. Allen-Miller's work is important because it refuses to make Yas (or Dom) into a mere vehicle for some larger narrative of romantic fulfillment. Instead, it prioritizes the messy, awkward, and authentic experience of being—a messy, awkward, and beautiful human being trying to make sense of the relationships around her. And that, perhaps, is the most refreshing thing about Rye Lane—its commitment to showing women (and men) as fully realized, flawed, funny, and deserving of love even in the most imperfect ways.
Born in Flames (1983) Written and Directed by Lizzie Borden
Born in Flames (1983) is an incendiary act of cinematic rebellion that resonates with a raw, unapologetic fury—a vision of feminist insurrection that refuses to be tamed by conventional storytelling or formalist aesthetics. Written by Ed Bowes and Lizzie Borden, and directed by Borden herself, the film is a fractured, poetic dystopia that envisions a future—one both absurd and entirely believable—where the war against patriarchy is being fought, not by conventional means, but through guerilla action, media manipulation, and, most importantly, women’s voices. What happens when the system—when society itself—claims to have “solved” the problem of patriarchy, yet the violence, the inequality, the erasure of women persists? When the political system says it has “liberated” you, but the streets still buzz with everyday violence against women, what do you do? What happens when the revolution doesn’t just fail, but it betrays you? Born in Flames offers something very few films do: a true, unapologetic blueprint for feminist action. The film reminds us that revolution isn’t a singular moment in time—it’s ongoing, it’s fragmented, and sometimes, it’s just as much about fighting the personal betrayals of the system as it is about battling larger political forces.
Meshes of the Afternoon (1943) Written, Directed, and Edited by Maya Deren
It’s Maya Deren’s world — her subconscious, her mind. We watch everything unfold as if we are alongside Deren, sharing her dreams. And maybe that’s the point, however, it’s never fully clear. Meshes of the Afternoon is not only known as a staple of feminist filmmaking, but also as one of the most influential works in the genre of experimental film and the avant-garde. Directed and edited by Deren herself, the film propounds permutations of mirrors, doppelgangers, keys, flowers, alongside malleable themes of dreams, memories, violence, and imagination. When everything can seem so eerie and unfamiliar, there’s one thing that we can grapple with: being a woman who is both working for and against herself, who is tearing herself into multiple pieces over and over again. Meshes of the Afternoon will forever cement itself as a film that challenged an age of male-dominated art, by portraying one of the most accurate depictions of the nature of a woman.
Saving Face (2004) Written and Directed by Alice Wu
Saving Face (2004), written and directed by Alice Wu, is a profoundly touching and nuanced film that explores the intersection of identity, family, and love through the experiences of two Chinese-American women. The film tells the story of Wil (played by Michelle Krusiec), a young, brilliant surgeon who is struggling with her sexual identity, and her mother, who is grappling with her own secret pregnancy and the expectations of her traditional, immigrant family. The brilliance of Saving Face lies in how it navigates the complexities of queer identity, cultural expectations, and generational divides with humor, warmth, and unflinching honesty—an accomplishment that is particularly significant coming from a female director and writer. There’s something very feminist about the way Wu allows her female characters to be complicated—to be flawed, to not fit neatly into a box, to live in the contradictions and messiness that being human in a world that demands conformity inevitably brings. It’s a story that doesn’t romanticize or simplify the process of "coming out"—because, for many women, particularly those from immigrant families, it’s not just about finding love or coming to terms with your sexuality. It’s about figuring out how to navigate all the impossible, messy, real-world contexts that shape who you are: love, history, race, expectations, trauma.
Betty Tells Her Story (1972) Directed by Liane Brandon
Betty Tells Her Story tells the saga of Betty, our main character, and her search for the ‘perfect dress’ — which she never gets to wear. This film follows harsh themes of body image, self worth, and the American beauty standard, all through which Betty approaches with a tone that is not different than one of a heartbreak. Women will always know that a dress is never ‘just a dress’, and that we more often than not have personal stories connected to the garments that we love and wear. When Betty discusses her dress and how it made her feel beautiful, we see ourselves in her. We all have that one thing — a piece of clothing or not — that to us, is magical. Hearing Betty retell the story of how she lost her dress places us in a position that is remarkably emotional, and through a simple story, are we able to feel as if we’ve known Betty for years. Liane Brandon’s film will forever be a landmark feminist piece for its simplistic yet gut-wrenching use of storytelling, as well as for its effective portrayal of a woman’s self esteem.
The Day I Became a Woman (2000) Written and Directed by Marzieh Meshkini
In its deceptively simple narrative structure, The Day I Became a Woman refuses to deliver easy answers or comforting resolutions. Whether it’s the young girl thrust into adulthood by a single, symbolic act, or the middle-aged woman struggling against the confines of her life, writer-director Marzieh Meshkini shows us the multiplicity of female experience within a rigidly defined framework. This film does not shout its feminist message; rather, it reveals it through quiet gestures, subtle performances, and a slow, deliberate pacing that allows viewers to feel the weight of the restrictions placed upon these women. By giving voice to women whose lives have been constrained by tradition and law, The Day I Became a Woman becomes an act of resistance itself—one that challenges the erasure of female agency within both the Iranian context and the broader global conversation about women’s rights. Meshkini’s film is a vital contribution to feminist cinema because it insists on telling the stories of women who are often silenced, and in doing so, it creates space for their complex, multifaceted realities to be seen and heard.
One Sings, the Other Doesn't (1977) Written, Directed, and Song Lyrics by Agnès Varda
Pomme sees Suzanne in a photographer’s studio, and learns that Suzanne is pregnant with her photographer-husband’s third child. When Pomme helps Suzanne pay for her abortion, a friendship blossoms right then and there, and for the next fifteen years, we watch as the two share a platonic love for each other. Written and directed by Agnès Varda, One Sings, the Other Doesn’t is rich in style, struggle, and performance. Varda doesn’t hide anything from us: if it’s happened before, she will point her camera at it. The film takes place from the 60s to the 70s, a generally curious time period, especially in terms of reproductive rights, and tells, in microcosm, the story of female liberation happening in France at that same time period. It’s a meta commentary, mixed with wit and humor, love and bright colors, and is full of feminism, through and through.
Girlfriends (1978) Directed by Claudia Weill, Written by Claudia Weill and Vicki Polon
In classic Hollywood, female friendship is often portrayed more like a carefully curated stage performance than a genuine bond, where the interactions aren't so much about emotional connection as they are about reflecting society’s skewed, almost comical view of what it means to be "a woman." This is the subtle brilliance of Girlfriends — written by Vicki Polon and writer-director Claudia Weill, a film that refuses to lean into typical female friendship clichés. Instead, Weill offers a complex portrayal of two women navigating the complexities of life, discovering one another not through grand gestures or dramatic confrontations, but through the everyday realities of living together. What Girlfriends offers, and what makes it so necessary, is an honest portrayal of female friendship and independence—one that doesn’t offer a cookie-cutter “happy ending” but instead forces us to confront the complexities of evolving as a woman in the face of changing relationships. It’s a raw, imperfect film about being a woman in a world that is constantly shifting around you. And that’s what makes it so essential—it’s a film that asks women to simply be, without the need for any grand gestures, without the need for perfection.
U.S. Go Home (1994) Directed by Claire Denis, Written by Claire Denis and Anne Wiazemsky
U.S. Go Home (1994), written and directed by Claire Denis, is a film that demands attention—not for the sweeping, dramatic gestures often associated with coming-of-age tales, but for its quiet, unnerving exploration of adolescence, desire, and the uncomfortable intersection of gender and cultural identity. The film, written by Anne Wiazemsky, is a subtle, powerful look at a young girl’s sexual awakening, framed within the confines of post-colonial French society. It’s important not just for its intimate portrayal of a teenage girl navigating the perils of longing and self-discovery but also because it’s a rare example of a film that lets a woman—both as a director and writer—tell this story from the inside out. Denis and Wiazemsky take care to show the female experience as it exists in the messiness of the real world—no sweeping redemption arcs, no moralizing. In telling this story through the lens of a young woman, U.S. Go Home insists that the female experience—especially in the throes of adolescence—deserves more than just the typical tropes of romanticized youth or tragedy. It’s a film that doesn’t flinch from the discomfort of growing up in a world where everything, from sexuality to identity, is in flux.
These films, though made decades apart, are more than just narratives of struggle; they are urgent declarations of resistance. Each frame, each performance, each moment of stillness or rebellion asks us to reckon with the ways in which women’s lives are policed, defined, and contained. Be Pretty and Shut Up! isn’t just a critique of the pressure to conform to beauty standards—it’s a damning indictment of a culture that deems women’s worth to be tied to their appearance and silence. And Thelma & Louise offers a brutal exploration of women breaking free from the roles they’ve been forced into, not as heroic figures, but as flawed, messy, real women reclaiming their right to exist outside of male approval. These films speak to the heart of feminist struggle—not just the fight for rights, but the fight for the right to be seen, heard, and fully realized. They are a reminder that our stories, our experiences, and our truths are not just worth telling—they are revolutionary acts. In a world that has long sought to erase women from the narrative, these films force us to confront the reality that we will no longer be silent.
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