Hollywood’s Take on Strong Female Characters: An Examination

There’s a common saying that those who wake up are dead, and Piers Morgan even wrote a book suggesting just that. It’s interesting how such thoughts spread, right? But, let’s dig a bit deeper.

Hollywood today seems to define strength as being a little over 100 pounds and perpetually annoyed. If you’re skeptical, just take a look at the trailer for “Vertex,” which is set to release in April. This film embodies one of the most exhausting tropes in Hollywood: the invincible woman who defies all odds, overpowers men much larger than herself, and disregards the fundamentals of biology as if they were mere mistakes in the script.

Mission: Unbelievable

In this latest installment, we see Charlize Theron, at 50, darting through the Australian wilderness and scaling cliffs, reminding us of Tom Cruise in “Mission: Impossible 2.” Gravity? Optional. Aging? Apparently, just a suggestion.

Honestly, we’ve seen this narrative so many times that it’s almost like a blur now. Change the titles, shuffle the backdrops, and repeat the choreography. A solitary woman battling past traumas, a grudge to settle—sometimes quite literally. There’s an imposing figure needing to be vanquished, an exciting score, and eventually, the credits roll, taking with them any semblance of reality for viewers hoping for something genuine.

The point isn’t whether women can be strong—of course, they can. It’s about how Hollywood defines strength. Over time, empowerment seems to have morphed into women playing roles initially meant for male action stars. The result often showcases fight scenes that defy the laws of physics and scripts that insult viewers’ intelligence. It’s not groundbreaking for petite actresses to tackle men the size of refrigerators and label any skepticism as misogyny.

What’s particularly revealing about this whole situation is how apparent the underlying issues are. This isn’t about just one film or one actress. It’s about years of similar material being injected into various genres—until it almost becomes a norm. Same cadence, same posture. The same lecture that feels dictated.

Form Fatale

Hollywood, for as long as we can remember, has thrived on formulas. It follows trends without much thought, imitating successes and discarding failures. Historically, these formulas catered to audience desires; if tickets weren’t selling, the trend would die down.

But now, the industry seems to treat audience pushback not as valuable feedback but as a problem to resolve. A film flopping isn’t seen as a flaw in the approach—it’s interpreted as an issue with the viewers themselves.

Studios want to portray this as what audiences crave, yet that isn’t the case. It’s more like a stubborn insistence. Fearful of accusations of stepping backwards, executives cling to this narrative: if a movie underperforms, it’s the fault of the audience. If it does okay, then it’s hailed as a cultural success.

Films like “Supergirl,” set to release later this year, are predictable in their delivery. Not because there was a demand, but simply because that’s the direction the industry seems to be heading.

It’s ironic to consider that the original “Supergirl” came out in 1984, coinciding with Orwell’s warnings about a system that repeats falsehoods until they feel inevitable. That film was largely ignored and maybe deservedly so.

Fast forward four decades, and Hollywood is seemingly determined to try that experiment again, convinced that time can rewrite what the audience remembers. Rather than entertainment, viewers are likely to be treated to tedious narratives dressed in spandex. According to current Hollywood standards, it appears a strong individual must have a weight of a little over 100 pounds and always look miffed.

Countdown

The aftermath of last year has made this painfully evident, especially highlighted by the disappointing box office for “Christy,” a biopic about boxer Christy Martin. Released in over 2,000 theaters, it only earned about $1.3 million—one of the worst openings in cinematic history.

Starring Sidney Sweeney, who has a curious resemblance to the iconic Rocky Balboa, producers assumed her star power would entice viewers. They seemed to overlook why anyone—particularly male viewers—would want to see her boxing in the first place. It’s when she portrays who she genuinely is: feminine, attractive, and strong. Few people buy tickets merely to watch a stunning woman take a beating.

This seems to be an unspoken truth studios often avoid discussing. Men and women have different desires when it comes to what they want to see on screen. Audiences flock to see Liam Neeson take down foes in “Taken,” or to watch Keanu Reeves exact revenge in “John Wick.” Those movies worked because they unabashedly leaned into male-driven fantasies.

Equalizer, Right?

What viewers aren’t interested in is seeing the same template awkwardly forced onto a different character and marketed as a fresh idea. Denzel Washington nailed his role in “The Equalizer” — it was ruthlessly done, convincing, and incredibly cool.

However, the TV reboot missed the mark entirely and turned it into something resembling comedy. It’s hard to believe that Queen Latifah could be a silent, invincible force of nature when her character appears to struggle with simple tasks. The audience is asked to accept that she can outmaneuver trained men, seemingly without breaking a sweat.

Returning to “Apex,” the humor isn’t just in Theron’s chase through bushland. It’s the entire industry that seems to be in a panic, chasing a fantasy that hasn’t sold in years. The irony and humor lie in the industry’s earnest belief that they’ll finally land the message right.

But, honestly, it isn’t graceful—it’s more akin to a plane crashing, leaving behind mangled wreckage and executives scratching their heads, trying to figure out what went wrong.

With no time for reflection or adjustments, it’s back to the studio to greenlight yet another forgettable film that nobody asked for.