I recently read an article in Criterion on the history of female editors in cinema.

The movie industry, while it exists to craft enrapturing narratives, also manages to reflect the state of the culture it exists in. The 70s and rise of auteurism in American cinema reflected both the experimentation in other areas of society (most notably with drugs), alongside a greater emphasis on individualism. The Westerns (both original and Spaghetti) of the 1950s reflected a post-War victorious rise of American pride in its nationhood and a re-contextualising of a crucial part of its history. In the modern day we see a great interest in superheroes: individuals in spandex and masks who fly around saving the world. This hints at a soft rejection, especially in liberal circles, of collectivist (don't say socialist!) storytelling: criminals and bad folks are out there, but if a small team of highly specialised individuals can swoop in and save the day, propping up existing power structures and not doing too much damage, there's not much to be worried about!

In this case, the article reveals how at the beginning of the movie industry, the cutting of film was seen as an unimportant and laborious role, and so was therefore given to women. Once the role of the editor became more important and prestigious, and studios began turning larger profits and expanding themselves, these roles began to be taken by men. Only a select group of women remained in the field, yet those that remained distinguished themselves: Elizaveta Svilova pioneered Russian Montage technique; Blanche Sewell edited The Wizard of Oz; Cécile Decugis edited Breathless; Ulla Ryghe cut Persona; Marcia Lucas co-edited Star Wars; Anne Bauchens won an Oscar in 1940, and was said by Cecil B. De Mille to have had “the most difficult operation of editing in motion picture history,” editing The Ten Commandments.

The article also spends time looking at auteurism and macho posturing in the modern film industry. It notes that Quentin Tarantino, whose films from Reservoir Dogs (1992) to Inglorious Basterds (2009) were edited by Sally Menke, said he'd wanted a woman who would “nurture” both him and his movie, rather than “shove their agenda or win their battles with me.” The statement sounds both very defensive for somebody at the top of his game, and quick to assign Menke the gender-normative maternal role. The fact Walter Murch is idolised ahead of Thelma Schoonmaker in many circles speaks further to the role of the editor being highly gendered: the partner vs. the collaborator; the friend vs the confidant.

We're progressing into a society that begins to understand that feminism and intersectionality don't merely mean selecting people due to some facet of their identity (class/gender/race) and forcing them to conform to the role assigned of them. Instead, it means changing a system of thought that would have one style (macho "my way or the highway" vibes) replaced with another: one that is more equitable, collaborative, and open. Society, and the movies, will be better off for it.