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The Jurassic Park film franchise offers a complex portrayal of gender issues within a long-running science fiction action series, although not one without problematic moments. This chapter examines selected examples from the series to explore this complex picture. These include moments in the series that display female characters such as Ellie Sattler, Sarah Harding and Claire Dearing with power and agency and the top of their respective professions, noting that Jurassic Park is unusual among science fiction films for its presentation of such accomplished female characters. The chapter also addresses the sexualisation of the character Ian Malcolm and the role of the more typical ‘action star’ from later films, Owen Grady. Finally, it considers the question of sex-selection for the non-human characters, namely the dinosaurs, as significant plot points advance upon the premise that the entire dinosaur population in the series consists of non-breeding females, a fact that is later shown to be untrue. The chapter addresses each of these examples through key issues relating to the production, presentation, and violation of the human and non-human living body across the full Jurassic Park series.

The world of the Action Film is a complex one. Whilst explosions may go off around the hero or heroine, skyscrapers crash into rubble, cars smash into one another, or the villain lives to fight on in another sequel, one thing is certain: the action film, loved and loathed in equal measures, remains a staple genre in cinema.

Sylvester Stallone's first appearance as John Rambo in First Blood was in 1982. It seems only logical, then, that this first edited collection in a three-volume publication is dedicated to the first 20 years in which action cinema began in earnest and grew to what it is today. By focusing on the 1980s to 2000, it becomes apparent that the action film is not simply gung-ho heroics played out to an expectant audience. Rather, it is a complex one, and one that demands further investigation.

This cutting-edge collection focuses on such areas of study include new, exciting and bold work on gender linked to vehicles, an LGBTQ+ case study of the Angel trilogy, star studies of Keanu Reeves and Arnold Schwarzenegger, sword and sorcery films, buddy-buddy cop movies, international examinations of action in both the films of Wong Kar-Wei and Colombian national cinema, and much more. Each chapter is housed within an academic framework and in-depth analysis is throughout.

This is the first volume in Emerald Publishing's bold examination of gender in action cinema. The following volumes will look at post-2000 work, focusing on Stars, Warriors, Bombshells and Atomic Blondes, and Transformations in action cinema. Much work has been written on action cinema, but in this collection you will time travel back to two decades in which one of the most spectacular genres erupted onto cinema screens. Whilst the action movie may still have its detractors, this book has been written for you to explore the complexities of gender portrayals in this genre. Above all else, it has been written for you to enjoy.

The association between motorcycles and sex, and motorcycles and action, is highly gendered and very few action films star women on motorcycles. This chapter examines little-known Australian film, Shame (1988) and the American made-for-television remake Shame (1992) as rare examples of films starring heroic women on motorcycles. The protagonist of both films is a motorbike-riding lawyer (Cadell) who rides into a country town blighted by an endemic rape culture. The film(s) have been largely overlooked in critical discussions about gender and action films. This chapter utilises scholarship about gender and action films, and about the rape revenge genre to explore how Cadell is cast as feminist avenger and agent of change. Rather than being a bombshell or a babe, in the tradition of Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor, Cadell is a tough action chick who embodies (female) heroism. She, as Sara Ahmed (2017) would describe it, snaps, and that snap prompts viewers to examine misogyny, rape, revenge and shame.

For much of its peak popularity in the 1970s and 1980s, women in action films were relegated to the damsel in distress and/or the romantic interest for the male lead. This was particularly evident in action films where women were depicted as being petite and submissive, especially towards the heroic male. Rarely did women occupy the primary focus in action films. Nowadays women are more frequently occupying positions of creative power as producers and actors, and there are some notable examples of progressive female roles in modern film. Female action stars tended to occupy one of two roles, that of what Marc O'Day (2004) labelled ‘action babe’ cinema, using the colloquial and dismissive term ‘babe’ as an indication of the derogatory nature of the female action hero who was often just a supermodel with a gun. However, there has emerged another type of female action star, the tough, aggressive and physically capable female action star, such as Sarah Connor in Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1992).

Yvonne Tasker coined the term ‘musculinity’ to define this new model of tough women; female action stars who appropriate what are considered traditionally masculine traits (developed muscles, aggression, confidence, leadership skills, bravery). The presence of athletic women in action films, especially when compared to their male counterparts, defies expectations for women, and as such provides a unique example to analyse in terms of gender dynamics. This is especially true of combat sports, where aggression is a feature of the sport and still considered a testosterone-oriented attribute. Indeed, in the 1970s and 1980s, the peak of the male action star, martial arts and associated combat sports provided opportunities for many former athletes to transition into action films. Using Tasker's framework of musculinity, I will examine Haywire (2011) as a notable progression in the representation of female action stars and musculinity. Focusing on a case study of Gina Carano's role in Haywire, and her subsequent career narrative, this chapter highlights how perceptions of masculinity and femininity in both combat sports and action films have previously limited roles for women and how much that has shifted in contemporary filmmaking.

Alien franchise protagonist Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) returns in the series' second film instalment, Aliens (1986), as ‘a full-fledged hard-body hero’ (Gallardo & Smith, 2004) to assist in the rescue of a group of colonists from an Alien invasion. As each of the rescue team's male officers are killed or proven incompetent or traitorous, Ripley quickly steps forward as the surviving group's leader and principal strategist, forming a strong emotional attachment to the colonists' only surviving child and providing structure and stability to the remaining soldiers. Her heroism is defined by her maternal leadership of the group; as the most sensible and competent member, she prioritizes the group's needs above her own. Ripley's full embodiment of motherhood amplifies her machoism and maternal control over the surviving group, allowing her to reconquer her fears of the Alien species and protect her adopted child when she is kidnapped and nearly killed by the Alien Queen. This chapter thus traces Ellen Ripley's transformation from sceptical consultant to macho-mother and its importance to the franchise's overarching narrative, as well as the evolution of the macho-mother hero in more recent science fiction action films such as Mad Max Fury Road (2015) and The Cloverfield Paradox (2018).

This chapter seeks to compare and contrast two compelling portrayals of the bisexual or ‘gender-blind’ vampire: The Hunger (1983) and American Horror Story: Hotel (2015). These texts present a number of notable differences. They were released over 30 years apart and they also diverge markedly in form: Hotel is a 12-episode television serial, whilst The Hunger is a tight 97-minute-feature film. Whilst these differences highlight shifts in the format of horror more broadly, they also facilitate the reflection on whether the portrayal of the bisexual vampire has dramatically shifted alongside these changes. Such a reflection is ripe with potential given that in addition to their differences, both texts also share significant aesthetic and narrative similarities. Both Hotel and The Hunger foreground performativity and feature female protagonists who defy heteronormative understandings of gender and sexuality. Undoubtedly, Hotel can be read as an aesthetic homage to The Hunger. However, whether Hotel also echoes some of the more conservative aspects of the earlier film’s politics is a more complex question. Focusing on the ways that these female vampire protagonists, as well as a selection of their lovers and victims, are gendered, this chapter will illuminate a number of developments and lingering issues in the ways that horror depicts (or circumvents) complex facets of the relationship between bisexuality and gender.

The popularization of slasher as subgenre begins with the release of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Hooper, 1974) and Halloween (Carpenter, 1978). Both films serve to define the topic of the subgenre: a serial killer that often slaughters groups of teenagers, especially attractive young women, using bladed weapons (Linz & Donnerstein, 1994; Molitor & Sapolski, 1993, 1994). Thus, although the definition of the slasher is not really fixed in terms of gender, the killers have been traditionally interpreted by men, while the victims have been usually interpreted by women (Clover, 2015; Trencansky, 2001; Weaver et al., 2015). Not for nothing, another important character is the final girl, who uncovers the monster´s motivations and finishes the killer off in the final scene; an important role that is actually a form of female subjugation. However, some exceptions can be found such as Pamela Voorhees (Friday the 13th, Cunningham, 1980), but she is simply defined as Jason´s mother. More interesting is the case of the Scream saga, in particular Scream 4 (Craven, 2011) where a teenage girl, portrayed by Emma Roberts, tries to play the role of the killer and the final girl at the same time.

In recent years, the slasher has gained importance in television. After Harper’s Island (CBS, 2009), an homage to the subgenre rather than a real slasher TV show, in 2015, MTV launched Scream, based on the film series and which continues exploring the gender roles anticipated by the last movie of the saga. In the same year, Fox launched Ryan Murphy’s Scream Queens (2015–2016) starred by Jamie Lee Curtis, the final girl of Prom night (Lynch, 1980) and Halloween saga, and Emma Roberts. In this regard, current television tries to renew the slasher, but starting from the clichés and even some familiar faces of the subgenre.

The purpose of this chapter is to evaluate the representation and evolution of female characters in slasher television series, exploring the relationship among the killer, the final girl and the rest of the victims. In this way, television series like Scream, Scream Queens (Fox, 2015–2016) or Slasher (Super Channel, 2016–) are analysed.

Unlike Joss Whedon's cult series Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997–2003), Angel (1999–2004) and Firefly (2002–2003), Dollhouse (2009–2010) is largely considered to be both a critical and commercial failure. Dollhouse is often dismissed as Whedon's worst television series, with critics citing their discomfort and disgust in watching hero Echo's (Eliza Dushku) repeated exploitation. Unlike other popular acclaimed TV series featuring a female action hero like Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001), Alias (2002–2006) and Nikita (2010–2013), the hero of Dollhouse is not empowered from the series' outset, but rather she slowly comes to her power and agency due to various traumatic and violent experiences. This chapter argues that Dollhouse stages a reworking of the cinematic female action hero figure by delaying empowerment and forcing the audience to linger in the hero's lack of agency. Dollhouse enables an unpacking of the female action hero popularised in films like Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991), Long Kiss Goodnight (1996), The Fifth Element (1997) and the Alien franchise (1979, 1986, 1992, 1997). By exposing the mechanics of hero-creation, Dollhouse forces viewers to consider how heroes are made and who is exploited in the process. As such, this chapter considers Dollhouse as an intervention into the female action hero film and television cycle through an analysis of how the series adheres to and subverts the tropes of the cycle.