The female gaze is a feminist theory that comes up frequently when we discuss films or TV shows that feature intimacy of any kind. How the framing of a scene is drawn with a feminist eye, brimming with respect and tenderness to showcase female pleasure with the same equal respect as a man’s often is. It’s what makes Bridgerton such a triumphant success, and it’s also what distinguishes My Fault: London from other films like it.
Directors Charlotte Fassler and Dani Girdwood gorgeously ensure that every beat between Nick and Noah transcends beyond the happenings we see, making their forbidden romance one that’s easy to find comfort in. There’s a warmth to the female gaze that allows a viewer to feel safer in what’s transpiring. In addition, how various scenes pan out exhibits the importance of consent in intimacy, making it abundantly clear that romance should be a safe space for everyone.
For good reason: a large majority of people on the internet right now are currently obsessing over Jessica Lee Gagné’s directorial debut in Severance’s “Chikhai Bardo.” The episode is a masterclass in vulnerable storytelling, but it’s also a testament to how profound adoration can make viewers feel. The characters are older and have lived through colossal points of trauma, allowing their experiences to be universally relatable. Often, content geared toward teenagers hooks on the most dramatic experiences, foregoing the depictions of growth that lead to real changes in their lives. Unless it’s a specific coming-of-age story, there’s little focus on past struggles and how they change people, but interestingly, My Fault: London isn’t lacking in this particular department.
Though full to the brim with scenes that feature partying, easy laughter that’s yet to be snuffed out of them by life’s tragedies, and moments of teenage pettiness, the film still shows viewers Noah’s pain through a lens that also highlights how Nick can care for her. It explores his traumatic past, allowing both characters honest moments to talk through their struggles. Because of these moments, the first time they’re in bed together starts with Nick’s ineffable need to take care of Noah after the panic attack, and it ends with the two of them sharing their pleasure. He only allows himself to move forward because she gives him the consent to. She tells him she wants him first.
Before we even see Nick standing up to Noah’s father and fighting for her life, the female gaze in My Fault: London already ensures that she’s safe with him. We, as an audience, can not only trust his intentions, but we can fully believe in the fact that he respects Noah with every bone in his body. There’s a stark difference in how, sometimes, the male gaze doesn’t ensure that there’s obvious consent because it seldom focuses on female pleasure and how we’re supposed to be respected. This certainly isn’t the case for content created by all male writers or directors, but without understanding the significance of the female gaze, it’s unfortunately seldom translated off-screen. (An astute example of how we see it through a male director’s vision can be seen in Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers.)
Ultimately, while My Fault: London might indeed be too dramatic for some viewers who prefer quieter love stories, it’s still brimming with tender moments that explore how people should take care of their partners. There are nuanced moments that allow both characters to be vulnerable, giving Matthew Broome and Asha Banks solid opportunities to show off their chops as actors.
It’s now streaming on Prime Video, and we’re all for it.
First Featured Image Credit: ©Amazon MGM Studios