Is Outlander the Feminist Answer to Game of Thrones?

Is Outlander ‘the feminist answer to Game of Thrones,’ as some people seem to be billing it? That would depend, one supposes, on which definition of feminism is being used. If ‘feminism’ includes outdated attitudes about gender and sexuality, rape, and violence against women, then Outlander definitely meets those criteria, but it doesn’t differ much from Game of Thrones, either.

The premise of Outlander, Starz’ attempt to cash in on big-budget fantastical extravaganzas, is that World War II nurse Claire Randall has been sucked into the 1800s, and the heart of the second Jacobite rebellion. There, she meets the brutal Redcoat ancestor of her modern-day husband…and a handsome Scottish warrior, Jamie Fraser. If the story sounds familiar, it should, given that it’s based on the internationally famous book series of the same name, written by Diana Gabaldon. The series has sold 25 million copies in 34 languages since 1991, when the first volume was released, and Gabaldon has been slowly but steadily dropping new books on the market ever since.

Essentially, the books are a time-traveling fantasy romance, which puts Gabaldon slightly ahead of the curve in terms of literary trends — the fantasy romance genre is huge today, and there’s a reason her books have stood the test of time. However, they also fall into familiar tropes; they include forced marriages, rape-romance, and highly stereotyped notions about women and men alike. While Randall is often presented as a rebellious female character who doesn’t permit men to abuse her or tell her what to do, that’s not the whole story; just like many other woman in romance, she’s remarkably quick to forgive the men in her life, and to ignore their sometimes substantial faults.

It’s not that feminist romance doesn’t exist, or that I have disdain for the genre; I am, in fact, a romance reader, and have a particular fondness for fantasy romance. And I prefer to read romance with empowered women, and romance that doesn’t adhere to formulaic heterosexual norms. It’s just that Outlander, in book or screen form, doesn’t meet these criteria, despite critical acclaim. It contains subjects that don’t fit in well with its feminist street cred, as some feminists will freely say, and those translate over to the Starz series.

Here’s the scoop on the Starz adaptation: The US network, clearly interested in drawing in more readers and banking on the success of shows (including adaptations) like Spartacus, Camelot, and The Pillars of the Earth, decided to have a go at another pop culture favourite. The network invested significant money in the production, drawing upon the fandom surrounding Game of Thrones, which could be yet another trashy fantasy adaptation, yet instead relies on stunning production values to periodically distract viewers from the violence and horrors of the show; sure, someone can be murdered by having liquid gold poured over his head, but at least it’s pretty.

Outlander takes us to the stunning Scottish Highlands, which are a character in and of themselves, for a series that sweeps viewers away in a romantic setting which the network apparently hopes will distract them from the flaws of the show. The fact is that, like the source material, Outlander has some serious social problems, and the show’s community of watchers isn’t afraid to call them out, even as critics seem to be liking the show. It’s currently at a 90% on Rotten Tomatoes, which collates reviews from a huge variety of publications.

The divide on Outlander highlights a growing and fascinating phenomenon in pop culture, criticism, and reflections on same. Professional critics often regard themselves as tastemakers and authorities who are above the scrabbles of the commons, and thus, there’s often a significant gap between what critics say and what viewers (especially those who abandon a show, book, or film because their tastes do not include, for example, rape and violence against women) say. Historically, this has been read as a suggestion that common viewers simply don’t understand art, or don’t have the training, experience, and emotional complexity to view media fairly.

But that isn’t necessarily the case. Even as critics claim that media can be objectively good when subjective opinions differ, it raises a larger issue: Critics are human, and they are not necessarily objective judges any more than anyone else is. Critics across the bar are claiming that Outlander is a good series, relying on everything from the staging to the acting to the plots, and ignoring the way many members of the public are responding, as evidenced when the show airs and Twitter lights up with hatewatching.

When a show becomes a hatewatching phenomenon, it is perhaps time to admit that it is not, in fact, objectively good, let alone subjectively so. Outlander has numerous social and production flaws that can’t be covered up by the majesty of the Scottish Highlands, and admitting those in professional reviews isn’t such a terrible thing. Critics need to stop talking down to their audiences, and need to update their views on their role in pop culture and in relation to the people they write for, as noted critic Alyssa Rosenberg has done with her column on pop culture and media that clearly and explicitly explores social issues while still retaining the traditional role of media criticism.

In the case of Outlander, Starz’ offering is more of the same old media. Viewers who object to the content of Game of Thrones probably won’t find much to like in the production, as many of the same issues are present, though Outlander may be marginally less explicitly and horrifically violent. For those who enjoy labyrinthine, sometimes nonsensical, fantastical plots with bloated numbers of characters and absurdly complex worldbuilding, with a side of violence, there’s a lot to like in both shows — but don’t go into Outlander with the expectation of meeting a real feminist heroine like Arya Stark.

Photo by Jamie McCaffrey, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license