Inside the New Legal War on Women

I paid as little attention as I could to the defamation trial involving actors Johnny Depp and Amber Heard. But the outcome of the case, wherein Depp was awarded some $10.35 million in damages, despite never being named by Heard in her 2018 op-ed for the Washington Post, proved impossible to avoid. When the verdict was announced, the internet exploded.

The level of mental and physical violence that Heard endured in her relationship with Depp paled in comparison to the public savaging that the actor was subjected to in the social media realm. The memes, name calling and gleeful viciousness took on a life of their own, spiralling into staggering levels of cruelty. The bonfires of Twitter and TikTok raged and people danced around it in a state of maddened ecstatic fury.

The caustic spectacle of the court case was horrifying enough. I can only imagine what abuse survivors witnessing this very public pillorying must have felt.

But the reaction to Depp’s victory cast an even more troubling shadow, with a number of writers and journalists stating that the outcome does not bode well for other victims calling their abusers to account in the legal system.

It ain’t over, of course. Heard will appeal. And the next celebrity defamation case is already on the docket. Actor Evan Rachel Wood and musician Marilyn Manson are set to go to court in the coming months. Unlike Heard, who did not name her abuser, Wood’s February 2021 Instagram post stated it outright: “The name of my abuser is Brian Warner, also known to the world as Marilyn Manson.... He started grooming me as a teenager and horrifically abused me for years. I am here to expose this dangerous man and call out the many industries that have enabled him, before he ruins any more lives.”

The HBO documentary Phoenix Rising, which premiered in March, is a two-part investigation that details the pair’s relationship. More critically, the film also looks at the nature of abuse itself: how it develops, how it continues and how horrifically difficult it is to bring to an end.

As a child star, Wood came into the predatory world of Hollywood when she was barely a teenager. The title role in the 2003 film Thirteen brought her a certain notoriety and also attracted the attention of one Brian Warner (Manson).

Director Amy Berg (West of Memphis, Deliver Us from Evil) had been following Wood’s story when the actor was seeking to change the statute of limitations around domestic violence in California. But as the filmmaker followed her, the story became increasingly complex.

The first half of the documentary details Wood’s childhood and family life. Born into a theatrical and thespian family, Wood’s father wrote and directed plays, and her mother was an actor and producer. Wood and her older brother got their Screen Actors Guild cards before they’d turned 10. It was a volatile childhood and when Wood’s parents separated, she travelled to L.A. with her mother where they lived in a one-bedroom apartment, often sleeping in the same bed, trying to break into the film industry.

All of this early biography isn’t merely a setup or prelude to the relationship with Manson. It’s also context for the cultural and sociological world that many young women inhabit in the entertainment industry.

Wood met Manson at a party. She was still a teenager and he was pushing 40. What began as a friendship and professional collaboration soon turned sexual.

At the time in the mid-2000s, terms like “grooming” or “love bombing” weren’t in common use. Without the terminology to even name or describe what was happening to her, Wood entered into a predatory situation that became increasingly violent and destructive.

In the film’s introduction, Wood and her friend Illam Gore are seen sifting through materials, building a case to bring to the authorities around Manson’s longstanding patterns of abuse and violence against women. Whether this preparation will have any impact is hard to say at this point. After all, Johnny Depp’s statements about murdering his former wife Amber Heard and having sex with her charred corpse did exactly nothing when it came to the jury’s decision.

One of the most disturbing aspects of Phoenix Rising is how much of Manson’s behaviour was well-known and well-documented. The experience of abuse, torture and rape were shared by a number of Manson’s intimate partners. In a particularly harrowing scene, a group of women who were involved with the musician share their stories including the fact that many of them bear permanent marks on their bodies, including brands and scars.

It wasn’t just women who came forward. Dan Cleary, who had worked with Manson as his assistant, supported Wood’s account of the suffering she endured while touring with the musician and his band. As Cleary states in the film, he witnessed her transformation over a year-long period. As he says, she became a different person and no one in Manson’s camp took action or intervened.

It is a horrifyingly familiar story of predators hiding in plain sight. Whether it’s a financier, a film producer, a modelling agent or a prince, the many people who worked to actively hide the evidence, and provide support to abusers — all the while drawing a paycheque — is almost more terrible than the actual abuse itself.

Manson brought a counter suit against Wood earlier in the year. In the tail credits of each of the documentary’s two sections, a statement from Manson’s legal team reads “Mr. Warner vehemently denies any and all claims of sexual assault or abuse of anyone.”

The trial is set to begin in the coming months and if the Depp/Heard case was any indication, the public spectacle might be even more lurid and disturbing.

A number of thoughtful people have pointed out that this is a backlash to the #MeToo movement, particularly egregious in that it takes away one of the few remaining places where women could seek redress.

People like Amber Heard and Evan Rachel Wood are wealthy, white, well-supported. If they’re subjected to almost nuclear-level attacks on their personal lives, professions, families and friends, what would less powerful women have to contend with?

At the heart of the question is whether women will be believed, which was the starting place for the #MeToo movement. The issue of free speech is also hanging in the wind. As Heard stated of the verdict in her case: “It sets back the clock to a time when a woman who spoke up and spoke out could be publicly shamed and humiliated. It sets back the idea that violence against women is to be taken seriously... I'm sad I lost this case. But I am sadder still that I seem to have lost a right I thought I had as an American — to speak freely and openly."

Amy Berg’s film is only the most recent documentary to detail the repercussions of speaking out. There have been legions of them. From Bill Cosby to R. Kelly, Larry Nassar to Russell Simmons, the list just goes on and on. The wages of destruction that can happen when a woman speaks out are formidable. But it isn’t always the case with men. Depp’s career appears unaffected. So does Simmons’.

Where we go from here is hard to say. But the ongoing war on women has found a new legal arena.