This isn’t a review of the DCEU’s latest film, Wonder Woman 1984. This isn’t even an educated critique of its structure or a study of its merits. This is a treatise. An impassioned plea.
People. We need to discuss Scarf Guy.
You know who I’m talking about. The guy who becomes a flesh suit for Steve Trevor during most of the movie. The guy who lost bodily autonomy for no other reason than a passing joke. The guy who NEVER EVEN GETS A NAME. That guy.
Listen, I’m not trying to raise another red flag in a film that is already brimming with them. I just need to understand why this specific plot point–one that wasn’t integral to the story in any way–was included. Because no matter how I try to unpack it, I simply do not understand.
For those that haven’t seen it, or just those that were second-screening and missed the five or so minutes during which it was touched on, a quick recap: Wonder Woman 1984 sees the return of Diana’s long lost love, Steve Trevor. Of course, Steve is dead (we watched him blow up somewhere over Belgium in the first film) but director Patty Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns and Dave Callaham have him returning for the sequel. This is likely because Chris Pine has a multi-film contract, but in the film it’s because of the Dreamstone, which finds its way into Diana’s hands where she holds it and stares at it very meaningfully. Considering that she’s spent the first 20 minutes of the film pining for Steve, we’re meant to know who she’s thinking about. (It’s Steve.)
And guess what? The Dreamstone brings Steve back! But he’s not just back, he’s inhabiting the body of another man. A man who had a life prior to Steve’s arrival, as evidenced by the apartment where Steve takes Diana so they can go through this man’s things before having sex. Then they continue to go through his things. Who he is or where he is never really comes into question; just his disorganization, his fanny packs and his penchant for scarves. His personhood isn’t even brought up when Steve risks his life (and Scarf Guy’s body) numerous times throughout the film, or when Diana struggles with the idea of Steve NOT remaining in there and forever erasing the consciousness of the man whose body (and apartment and clothes) have made all this possible to begin with.
Scarf Guy does eventually get his body back, which is good I guess. But we never learn where his consciousness went while his body traveled the world, or if he knew how and why his body was used without his consent. We never even find out how he got home without being arrested for attacking the White House so he could don his scarf once again and wander the streets of DC marveling at Christmas decorations, which is where we see him at the end of the film.
I JUST WANT ANSWERS.
OK, I know it sounds like I’m getting worked up over a minor plot point, but let me be clear: This isn’t just about Scarf Guy. Yes, his journey is terrifying if you think about it too long and can prompt an existential crisis at 3 a.m. as you stare into the darkness of your bedroom pondering the true nature of self, but it’s more than that. This is a film franchise that capitalizes on (and monetizes) women’s empowerment and gender equality. So does anyone else find it crazy that they’re telling their audience that bodily autonomy, one of the tenets of the gender equality movement, is just a joke?
Maybe it wouldn’t feel so weird if the body swap was motivated by something. Anything. Because, traditionally, they are. Despite how good or bad the film, body swap stories are there for a reason; they either motivate the plot or the character’s growth or SOMETHING. But Scarf Guy loses autonomy for no reason. Seriously, there is no reason this man’s body must be occupied by Steve. The Dreamstone turns a woman into a cheetah; it could just as easily conjure a body for Steve. In fact, that would make so much more sense since the whole body swap in no way affects the plot (even though at numerous points in the film it absolutely should). So if the filmmakers didn’t need to include it and its inclusion didn’t further the plot in any meaningful way, we’re left with only one conclusion: A person losing bodily autonomy (in which no person responsible actually feels responsibility for this person’s absence or integrity) was added for a laugh.
That’s insane, right?
Maybe I’m overthinking this. After all, we’re talking about a film that seems to embrace almost every ’80s film trope with unbridled enthusiasm. Why wouldn’t that also include body swapping? But just like every ’80s trope that shows up in this movie, it’s not clear that the filmmakers understood the motivation behind it before deciding to exploit it. I mean, there’s a reason films about ’80s materialism no longer romanticize it, or why we now see films challenging negative stereotypes of Arab people rather than perpetuating them. Or why almost all recent body swap films have been in the horror genre.
Films that continue to use these tropes have something new to tell us about them.
So…what is Scarf Guy supposed to be telling us?
Because he has to be telling us something. That’s what this entire franchise is built on. Wonder Woman is a heroine created for the purpose of social commentary on women’s liberation and gender roles. Jenkins embraced this with 2017’s Wonder Woman, threading a message of gender equality and women’s empowerment throughout the plot despite being set 100 years in the past. This first film was by no means perfect, but it was self-aware; it knew of the cliches and tropes that existed in-universe and in Hollywood, and tackled them head on. Despite its flaws, the first film felt informed. It felt like it had something to say.
So what exactly is Wonder Woman 1984 trying to say here?
Because, whether intentional or not, it’s definitely saying something. And it would be a tragedy if what we’re left with is the biggest female superhero in the world making bodily autonomy a joke, right?
…Right?
Emily Harding is a television producer and writer whose work has appeared on numerous networks and sites, including History, MTV.com, Bravo, and Discovery.
