RBG Offers Up a Supreme Court Justice as a Pop-Feminist Ideal

You already know, walking in, that RBG—Julie Cohen and Betsy Wests spirited new documentary—will track the long, incredible rise of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg: Supreme Court luminary, womens-rights advocate, and, as of late, pop-feminist icon and face on coffee mugs.

You figure the movie will serve up interviews with the likes of Gloria Steinem and Bill Clinton (who nominated Ginsburg to the Supreme Court in 1993) and assume, rightly, that it will cover the key points in her career. Theres the time she spent working for the A.C.L.U. in the 1970s—when she co-founded the Womens Rights Project and brought numerous cases on gender discrimination before the high courts. And the time she wrote a dissenting opinion so nimbly argued and persuasively courageous that Congress and the president had no choice but to adapt her ideas into law, which happened when her dissent in Ledbetter v. Goodyear led to President Barack Obamas Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act in 2009. The “notorious R.B.G.,” as a recent book has dubbed her, is indeed notorious for good reason.

Here, though, is something you maybe couldnt have expected to see: a grimacing, spectacled R.B.G. pumping iron to a girl-power anthem, lunging and dipping in her Super Diva shirt.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg—shes just like us? Thats not exactly the main takeaway of RBG, but you cant help but feel so after seeing interviews with her granddaughter, who calls her Bubbe, or her childhood friends, who call her “Kiki,” or her personal trainer, who probably calls her Justice Ginsburg but has the unique advantage of seeing her sweat. Delving into the personal life of an icon, looking beyond the bullet points under the “Career” tab of her Wiki, cannot help but humanize her for the rest of us.

And, in some senses, glamorize her. Whod have imagined, even a decade ago, that wed be Instagramming our R.B.G. T-shirts, Photoshopping her face onto the bodies of Wonder Woman and Rosie the Riveter, or dressing up Chihuahuas in her image? Who knew that shed be going by the hip nickname of R.B.G., or that a book about her might get away with having chapter titles borrowed from Notorious B.I.G. lyrics?

Thats in part a question about whether we expected our culture to so eagerly and unanimously celebrate a powerful woman by this point in our checkered history of gender. But its also a question about the nature of our appreciation. The fascination of RBG is in part the story it tells, amply laying out what has made R.B.G. such an important force in the legal profession since her days at Harvard Law School in the 50s. But its also, significantly if less obviously, a telling example of how our long-overdue enthusiasm is prone to manifesting itself in the dominant feminism of the moment. The documentary sees Ginsburg as an icon and hero first—and within that (I hesitate to say “second”) it sees her as the prodigious, idiosyncratic legal mind that she is. Somewhere in the process, rich contradictions and complexities get the slightest bit overlooked.

The film dives at a heady clip into the justices life and career, moving from her early days as a first-generation Russian Jew born and raised in Brooklyn to her time as one of nine women in her class at Harvard Law School, and then her sensational career, in the 1970s, as the co-founder of the Womens Rights Project, a gender-discrimination project run out of the A.C.L.U. We learn of her prominent legal victories, such as her first Supreme Court case with the A.C.L.U., Frontiero v. Richardson.

Her mother, Ginsburg says in the documentary, instilled in her the need to be self-sufficient, and every turn in her life story is a tribute to that singular independence. But the documentary also movingly dedicates much of its run time to detailing the overwhelming and, frankly, rare support Ginsburg got from her husband, Marty, since as far back as their days as Cornell co-eds. It was Marty, Ginsburg says, whose encouragement made it possible for her to pursue a legal career full throttle despite the social and professional hurdles that befell her. Marty relocated with her from New York to Washington when she was appointed to the D.C. Circuit of the U.S. Court of Appeals by Jimmy Carter, and campaigned hard on her behalf as Bill Clinton began considering Supreme Court appointees. And his laughter, which brought this otherwise reserved woman out of her shell, undoubtedly helped.

They were a power couple, indisputably, and the support was mutual. While at Harvard Law, for example, Marty was stricken with cancer, and Ginsburg took care of not only him, but their young daughter, which is to say nothing of attending to her own obligations as a student, including her position on the Harvard Law Review. Marty, who died in 2010, was an exceptional, well-regarded tax attorney. You can tell the movie wants to frame their union as a modern feminist ideal. The aim isnt to suggest that a married woman of Ginsburgs stature couldnt have gotten where she is without her husband—its to say that ideally, she shouldnt have to.

Its hard to argue otherwise. But as I watched the movie, I kept wondering why it repeatedly returned us to the same speeches and NPR interviews and quips from Marty, to the same scenes of Ginsburg working out and giggling over Kate McKinnons impersonations of her on S.N.L., instead of exploring the corners of her intellect that may have been in conflict with the uncomplicated heroism we seem to demand of our icons. The closest we get are reminders of Ginsburgs relationship with conservative B.F.F. Antonin Scalia, and of the time she railed against then-candidate Donald Trump, breaking with a tradition of the judicial branch keeping silent on matters of politics. After an hour of being convinced that Ginsburg is notoriously reticent and polite, never talking out of turn, I wanted to know more about that woman—the one who rails against an incumbent president with little regard for the rules. And I wanted more from that than our usual “Yas queens” over the fact that she breaks the rules.

The movie is never better than when it homes in on Ginsburg as a fierce legal mind, a rhetorical and logical force to be reckoned with. When the screen filled with excerpts from her many assertive, groundbreaking legal arguments, I sat up in my seat. And when were presented graphics ranking Ginsburg on the liberal-conservative spectrum among the other justices: further center circa 1993, further left after the confirmations of John Roberts and Samuel Alito). Ginsburg herself says in the movie she was not the most liberal justice, to start. But what does that mean? What does it amount to? In its otherwise ample contextualization of her career, the movie overlooks the answers.

What the movie offers us, above all, is a pop-feminist ideal: of women supporting women, of men supporting women, of multiple generations—even those in conflict—supporting each other, and above all, of women like Ginsburg finally getting their due. Youd be a fool not to support that vision. But a wiser documentary might have enriched it.

Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Full ScreenPhotos:The Best Royal Wedding Gowns of the Last Century

Queen Elizabeth II, 1947

The Queen saved up her post-W.W. II clothing ration notes in order to purchase her wedding dress from couturier Norman Hartnell, according to the Royal Collection Trust. With the Primavera by Botticelli serving as the inspiration, the ivory silk gown was dotted with 10,000 seed pearls and a 15-foot star-patterned train.Photo: From Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone/Getty Images.

Grace Kelly, 1956

Costume designer Helen Rose had dressed Kelly for several of her films, and also designed the gown, a gift from MGM, that she wore to marry Prince Rainier of Monaco.Photo: By Mondadori Portfolio/Getty Images.

Empress Michiko, 1959

Then Michiko Shōda, the future empress was from a wealthy family and met the Crown Prince Akihito on the tennis courts at a resort. (She caused a stir as the first commoner to marry into the family, but also spurred a sort of celebrity craze.) The gown she actually married in was the traditional jūnihitoe. The literal translation is “twelve-layer robe,” and its an elaborate and heavy kimono once worn by court ladies. She changed into the Western dress (and he into tails) to accompany her new husband to inform his parents they had been married, per tradition.Photo: From Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone/Getty Images.

Princess Margaret, 1960

Designed by Norman Hartnell, the preferred royal couturier, Princess Margarets dress was simple, well tailored, and let the silk organza shine. Anyway, the real show was on the head, where the princess wore an enormous tiara created by crown jeweler Garrard in the 1870s for Lady Poltimore. The royal family bought it for the occasion from Sothebys for a mere £5,500 in 1959.Photo: From Bettmann/Getty Images.

Princess Claire of Luxembourg, 2013

Claire Lademacher became Princess Claire of Luxembourg in Elie Saab. She wed Prince Félix of Luxembourg near Frankfurt, Germany.Photo: By Sebastien Nogier / Epa/REX/Shutterstock.

Princess Sofia, 2015

Princess Sofia of Sweden, Duchess of Värmland (née Sofia Hellqvist) married Prince Carl Philip of Sweden, Duke of Värmland at Stockholms Royal Palace. To honor the country she now represented, Sofia wore Swedish designer Ida Sjöstedt. It boasted handmade lace in three shades of white (count them if you can) with silk organza and crepe.Photo: By Anders Wiklund / Epa/REX/Shutterstock.

Beatrice Borromeo, 2015

Beatrice, an Italian aristocrat, married Pierre Casiraghi, the grandson of Prince Rainier of Monaco and Grace Kelly, twice across two weekends and in five different dresses. The one shown here is the final—Giorgio Armani couture—which she wore after the Isolino di San Giovanni ceremony (one of the familys islands) at the Borromeo Castle.Photo: By JacopoR/PierreS/GC Images/Getty Images.PreviousNext