There was something about this film that intrigued me for quite some time after I first saw it. It wasn't the rags to riches plot, or the political subtext. It wasn't the realistic toned-down color palette, or the acting. It certainly wasn't Julia Roberts, who I've never felt was more than a mediocre actress.
It hit me after some time that it was the character. Erin Brockovich as she was written in the script, is absolutely perfect. And the reason she's perfect is that she isn't.
Women in film, whether they take the lead or follow, can usually be divided into archetypes. There's The Wife, typically seen with the main character's children, most of her dialogue dedicated to expressing concern for the male lead, occasionally crying because he has no time for her or something of that nature. There's The Lover, who says a lot of passionate things to the male lead and then they kiss in the rain. The Mother, often eccentric and wise, but never interesting. The Femme Fatale, sexy, dangerous and often ambiguous. Then there's The Strong Woman, who, perhaps both as a result of increasing demands for equality between the sexes and the influence of this film, has seen a renaissance over the past few years, in films like
North Country and
Walk the Line. The Strong Woman is often in conflict with powerful men. She doesn't conform to expectations and pursues her goal with persistence and passion.
Erin fits the characteristics of this latter archetype, yet she is not a flat or generic character. Her perfection is her imperfection; her lack of an education, her pride and unwarranted aggression, her ambition. She is in no way a bad mother, but she becomes so engulfed in her work that her children come second-place. She displays herself in a feminine and sexual manner, because she knows that this has helped her gain advantages in the past, and because she feels comfortable in even the least tasteful outfits. Ed Masry, her boss and mentor, has to restrain her at times, often convincing her to calm down and study the nuances or complications. Her inability to do this, her quite masculine black-and-white worldview, guided by a fierce sense of morality, is the flaw that makes me appreciate her as a convincing character. She occupies everyone's attention in the film, we the audience, Masry, her enemies and children. Interestingly, The Wife also makes an appearance, but
he is a hairy biker this time around, set to watching Erin's children while she is out fighting Big Business.
Erin isn't believable because we all know someone like that. I certainly don't. That's how archetypes work, and Erin isn't an archetype. She's a personality, with a healthy mix of strengths and weaknesses, and I would go far as to say that she's the biggest feminist victory in Western cinematic history since Scarlett O'Hara; not because she beats the men at their own game, but because she refuses to behave like women are supposed to onscreen.
