The cinematic sad girl: exploring the cultural misunderstanding of Sylvia Plath
Born in 1932, Sylvia Plath began writing as a child. Her first poem was published when she was only eight. Plath continued writing throughout her adolescence, and by her third year of college, she was awarded the chance to edit Mademoiselle magazine in New York City for the summer. Her time in the Big Apple did not go as she had planned. Paired with her experience of clinical suicidal depression, the events of that ill-fated summer inspired her only novel, The Bell Jar. Released in 1963 under the pseudonym Victoria Lucas, Plath died a month after its release, never witnessing the tremendous impact it would have on popular culture and the literary world.
In fact, in Plath’s lifetime, she only published one volume of poetry, The Colossus and Other Poems. Yet, following her death, multiple other anthologies were released, such as Ariel and Winter Trees. These collections, alongside her published diaries, have formed the perception of Plath in the public consciousness as the poster child for depressive, angsty women. Despite being one of the literary canon’s most well-known female writers, she is also one of the most misunderstood.
Plath’s legacy has frequently become cinematic shorthand for female characters that screenwriters consider to be ‘not like other girls’. For example, in the romantic teen comedy 10 Things I Hate About You, the protagonist Kat is depicted as a moody outsider and an ‘angry feminist’. To depict this, she is seen reading a copy of The Bell Jar and listening to riot grrrl music. In Gilmore Girls, avid reader and academic enthusiast Rory expresses an intense love for Plath, reading her work on multiple occasions in the show. There are countless examples of other characters in film and television using The Bell Jar or Plath’s name as a synonym for ‘depressed’, ‘complicated’, or ‘overdramatic’, emphasising her misinterpretation in the cultural lexicon.
Because Plath’s work has become synonymous with pain and suffering, her name is watered down to nothing more than a tragic figure instead of one that, despite her suicidal tendencies, possessed profound hope. For example, in her diary, she wrote: “I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
Although this extract appears hopeless, Plath simultaneously demonstrates a lust for life and an extraordinary capacity for understanding the neverending possibilities of living – both the good and the bad. Unfortunately, the choices in front of her and her ability to feel things so strongly – as summarised in her gorgeously written ‘fig tree’ analogy in The Bell Jar – overwhelmed her to the point of death. Still, Plath was a multi-dimensional being, and at the root of her downfall was hopefulness.
In an interview with Dazed, scholar Gail Crowther discussed the misframing of Plath in mainstream media, hoping that, with the advent of new books and exhibitions revealing previously unseen artefacts from Plath’s life, she can be seen “as a funny, warm, intelligent, very witty and talented woman, someone very different from the cultural stereotype usually attached to her.”
For example, an exhibition at Washington’s National Portrait Gallery showcased images of Plath, blonde and beaming, a talented painter and collage-maker, often imbuing her work with political overtones. The constant labelling of Plath as a one-dimensional sad girl discredits the mighty influence she had on literature, helping to pioneer the confessional poetry genre. She also advocated for women’s rights and acknowledged taboo topics such as post-natal depression as far back as the 1950s.
You only have to look at Plath’s colourful painting ‘Triple Portrait’ to see a fragmented face representing the multitudes of emotions and constantly shifting identities she possessed. Plath didn’t always know happiness, but she could still write about it well. In her diary, she wrote: “I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun. […] At times like this, I’d call myself a fool to ask for more.”
It’s time that Plath is seen as more than just a writer of melancholic poetry and prose. The Bell Jar is an essential read for many teenage girls and young women, exposing the plight of being young and non-male in a patriarchal world. To water Plath down is to disregard the enduring impact of her work. She was a pioneering writer who failed to receive adequate help for her depression, leading to her premature death aged 30. Plath left behind a beautiful collection of work that deserves to be recognised for its versatility instead of becoming a cinematic and musical shorthand for quirky, sad, and angsty characters.
