Desire in Vladimir, and a darkness within

Women’s power in patriarchal structures is conditional and reversible, and only some of us are not compelled to use the depreciating currency of desirability

Face card never declines. Recently, the teen’s best friend got this title at their school farewell party. A jaw-droppingly pretty young girl, and equally sassy. She could easily be the younger version of Professor Left-Unnamed-Deliberately, played by Rachel Weisz in Vladimir.

Why should women’s desire exist as a means to an end, whatever the latter be? (REUTERS)

But this is exactly how this Netflix show, touted as the sexiest show of the year, opens. The middle-aged drop-dead professor of English addresses us with a cutting self-realisation that she may not have “power” over another human being anymore. Most of us would exclaim, “Girl, are you serious? You slay! You are the queen,” or other such Gen Z inanities. She’s married to a celebrity fellow littérateur and the Chair of the English department, she’s an acclaimed author, and her students crush on her. She’s also the best-dressed person on the college property. Yet, it’s not just her face card that declines through the course of the show.

We find the Professor in the middle of a crisis, not of her own doing. The celebrity husband has been reported as a serial seducer of his and her students. While it indeed was “another time,” his job and her reputation, along with their financial and emotional security, are at risk in this moment. There is the minor issue of their gender fluid, bisexual lawyer daughter’s breakup, too. And to muddy the waters further, there’s a new colleague, who’s as handsome as his awareness of the same.

This Professor, who is as insert-your-preferred-hyperbole desirable as Weisz, is powerless in the face of all of the above. She’s not even sure of the reciprocity of her limerence for a decidedly lesser man, the eponymous Vladimir Vladinski, who flirts with everyone with a cocky nonchalance. Why is the Professor so insecure?

Perhaps she’s right about the realisation of her waning power. Women, even those who seemingly have it all and know it all, know the precariousness of the ground beneath their feet that has been laid with slow-baked gender tiles. If they have a gifted face and body, they’ll lose the footing of brains. If they also have the brains, sexuality might be losing the grouting. And if they have all three, there is the money tile to maintain them. The uber fortunate ones with enough money might still be stepping cautiously, lest they lose their reputation. Which one of us can walk confidently, then?

No wonder then, these days, there is an expensive masterclass — just like ones on cooking, baking, and filmmaking — advertised on Instagram and YouTube for women to unleash their sexuality for seizing and maintaining “power”. And that brings us to a more important, and deeply problematic, issue. Why should women’s desire exist as a means to an end, whatever the latter be? Are they allowed to have desire for the sake of desire and not be reviled, or, worse, taken advantage of, for it? Despite centuries of efforts to free desire of the socio-cultural trappings, we are still debating whether women’s bodily fluids can exist — in skein, tear, or mammary glands — per se, without them being “employed” for something else. The creative juices. The sexy cutaways, the Professor’s imaginary throes of participatory passion, must lead to something bigger and better. A book. On the other hand, Vladimir can just keep on leading her, and everyone else, on without even batting an eyelid.

Perhaps we are not debating women’s dependence on men in many enlightened and empowered caucuses any longer. Yet, the discussions on how “pretty women have it easier” or how “it’s okay to sleep your way up” emanate from a similar fountainhead of women’s inherent powerlessness over their own desire. Women’s power in patriarchal structures is conditional and reversible, and only some of us are not compelled to use the depreciating currency of desirability.

The most tragic and poignant moment in Vladimir does not even involve the man whose inescapable grip on the Professor speeds up her unravelling. It’s the response David, the unattractive, old, and objectively dour acting Chair, gives to the Professor’s frustrated declaration that she’d never sleep with him again. The two had a passionate affair in the past. She’s crestfallen when he says flatly, “It’s fine”.

This rejection is what most women fear. And the fear only grows deeper as gravity takes hold of the body or newer colleagues come prepared with more exciting syllabi for students whose intellectual promiscuity is second to none. This is not vanity, that much-touted trait of women who seem to have it all.

This is simply another reminder that even a cranky, malfunctioning machine can rob you of your worth, because the face card, and all other cards, can decline in this economy of inequities.

Nishtha Gautam is an academician and author. The views expressed are personal