As a kid, I liked I Dream of Jeannie without understanding what Jeannie stood for. On the one hand, Jeannie is one chick who seriously needs a copy of The Feminine Mystique. On the other, it’s delightful that the psychiatrist, Dr. Bellows himself (now there’s a pun for a name), was pathologized and neuroticized. How funny is that.

Also, feminist critic Lynn Spigel makes a great point in “From Domestic Space to Outer Space” (in Close Encounters: Film, Feminism, and Science Fiction, ed. Penley et al.): “The patriarchal splendors of the space project are ironically cast aside as a woman is able to accomplish the same task with mere wishful thinking.”

Or, Jeannie puts it more simply when she says to Tony:

My ancestors were flying carpets while yours were still hollowing out canoes.

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