She's rich. She's dazzling. She's convincingly competent. She's impressively tough and assertive. She's the president of a major car manufacturer. She's on top of the world. A step forward for women, right.
Wrong! More like a step backward. Despite her position and prestige Alison Drake truly has no identity of her own. Why? Because she's a---you guessed it-- FEMALE. Love, men, children are, in the end, what she is all about. And she must view these pursuits as being in direct opposition to work, career, success. The private realm is the true place for a female and when it is not, her personal self must subsume her public self. So, in the end, Drake's singular capacity to rule a big motor company is not only not acknowledged but becomes downright superfluous. Nine children and a prestigious family will be her legacy, not nine million automobiles and a place in history .
For with Miss Drake, fulfillment trumps leadership; feelings and emotions counter her incisive authority; fluff is better than gruff; an adorable winning weakness is preferable to the gallantry of strength; and neediness and conventionality are so much more appealing than independence and passionate activity. Wholesome wife-hood is really the thing--so much more rewarding than dating an array of men; while the hobby-horse of family is ridiculously superior to the ugliness of business. Ask any man, right? Yes guilt and the potency behind the female role carry the day with President Drake. And all the reciprocity involved in her business and social relations will never be re-cooped in the love and marriage which are her final lots. Nor will her forcefulness and challenging cleverness ever again find its natural rhythm in worldly affairs.
And poor Ruth Chatterley too. For despite her many triumphant and funny moments, so much of her excellent performance is plainly wasted as it spins from the height of womanhood into the male orbit--and back toward adolescence.
Wrong! More like a step backward. Despite her position and prestige Alison Drake truly has no identity of her own. Why? Because she's a---you guessed it-- FEMALE. Love, men, children are, in the end, what she is all about. And she must view these pursuits as being in direct opposition to work, career, success. The private realm is the true place for a female and when it is not, her personal self must subsume her public self. So, in the end, Drake's singular capacity to rule a big motor company is not only not acknowledged but becomes downright superfluous. Nine children and a prestigious family will be her legacy, not nine million automobiles and a place in history .
For with Miss Drake, fulfillment trumps leadership; feelings and emotions counter her incisive authority; fluff is better than gruff; an adorable winning weakness is preferable to the gallantry of strength; and neediness and conventionality are so much more appealing than independence and passionate activity. Wholesome wife-hood is really the thing--so much more rewarding than dating an array of men; while the hobby-horse of family is ridiculously superior to the ugliness of business. Ask any man, right? Yes guilt and the potency behind the female role carry the day with President Drake. And all the reciprocity involved in her business and social relations will never be re-cooped in the love and marriage which are her final lots. Nor will her forcefulness and challenging cleverness ever again find its natural rhythm in worldly affairs.
And poor Ruth Chatterley too. For despite her many triumphant and funny moments, so much of her excellent performance is plainly wasted as it spins from the height of womanhood into the male orbit--and back toward adolescence.