COMM-ically Speaking

Matrix's Trinity - What Happened?

By Deanna Lytle
March 1, 2006

Everyone has his or her own opinion about what went wrong with the Matrix series. Make that more than 1,900,000 people — because that's the number of hits I came up with when I searched for "Matrix" and "what went wrong" on Google.

I bring this up because, as I was watching the Super Bowl in February, I remember that during the 1999 Super Bowl, the first advertisement for The Matrix aired. There were the cryptic series of images of Trinity and Morpheus performing superhuman feats and a mention for the Web site, "What Is the Matrix?".

It all made me wonder, "What the heck is it?" So I, along with others, lined up in theaters during the weekend of March 31, 1999 to find out.

"Damn." That was all I could say coming out of the theater.

This was more than seeing dinosaurs brought to life. I could comprehend the fantastic elements of that. But flesh and blood humans flying through the air and dodging bullets? Damn.

And part of my admiration for the movie was the characters. Not only did they perform those amazing feats, but also they were different from film stereotypes. There was Morpheus — a black character who was the knowledgeable and capable team leader.

And there was Trinity, my main reason for writing this piece.

Before the sequels came out, I probably had seen The Matrix nearly ten times. And each time I viewed the film, I grew to appreciate her more.

First, she was different from other female action characters. She didn't have big boobs and long, blond hair or wear a lot of make-up. Trinity was svelte — skinny and strong. She had short brown hair that wasn't perfectly coifed in each shot. In the "real world," she wore ratty clothes that hung on her frame — she looked like a woman who woke up in a post-apocalyptic world. And in the Matrix, she wore black pants and a covering tank top — things you could actually fight in without having a boob pop out.

And Trinity kicked butt, too. She outran the police officers and the Agents in the first scenes of the film. She was even a respected hacker before she "woke up":

Trinity: My name's Trinity.

Neo: "The" Trinity? Who cracked the IRS d-base?

Trinity: That was a long time ago.

Neo: Jesus ...

Trinity: What?

Neo: I just thought ... you were a guy.

Trinity: Most guys do.

She was the calm and knowledgeable one, telling Neo the Matrix's quirks as they traveled the virtual landscape. She went with him to rescue Morpheus — none of this "you go ahead, and I'll stay back here and man the computers":

Trinity: I'm going with you.

Neo: No you're not.

Trinity: No? Let me tell you what I believe. I believe that Morpheus means more to me than he does to you. I believe if you are really serious about rescuing him, you are going to need my help. And since I am the ranking officer on this ship, if you don't like it ... I believe you can go to hell. Because you're not going anywhere else.

And Trinity brought heart to the picture, too. She cares about Morpheus, as the above quote shows. And when she wasn't in the Matrix with Neo, she guided him. I can hear Carrie-Anne Moss's voice when Neo is dead, telling him what the Oracle told her and adding a firm "Now get up." Amazingly, her words stirred Neo to life.

If that's not power — whether it's her love for others or physical/mental strengths — I don't know what is.

Trinity was a "real" female action hero to me. She made the "Bond Girls" look like fainting violets; Lara Croft seem like a cold, uncaring, pampered princess; and Charlie's Angels appear like one-dimensional, two-bit wonders. Trinity harkened back to the original female action hero — a combination of Athena's wisdom and Artemis' skills and strength.

So Trinity stayed up on the pedestal in my mind — the unshakable standard that would smite the meagre "strong female character" attempts of mortal movie producers.

And then came the sequels. Granted, I was looking forward to them. I expected Trinity's character to continue in the same direction, while developing as the plot necessitated.

But I grew disappointed and angry with each moment of parts two and three — what the heck happened to the Trinity I knew and loved?

Well, first, she died. My brother spoiled this for me — I may forgive him one day. Just as she and Neo are getting to the machines' city — bam! They crash and she's impaled. Unlike in the first film, she won't be traveling the last leg of the journey with Neo.

Trinity's death reminded me of the "Women in Refrigerators" lists for female comic book characters. Both return to the same question: Why do some of the most powerful female characters get killed (or raped, crippled, rendered infertile, etc.)? Why? I don't know. But even though I'd seen it happen to women before, Trinity's death still stung. It just reinforced the idea that if you are a powerful woman in sci-fi/fantasy, you will get shot down somehow in the end.

Another aspect that changed Trinity's character was Persephone. In the first film, with the exception of the "Lady in Red," the women of the Matrix world are shown as being mentally or physically powerful and as being capable team members or leaders. There was the kind and omnipotent Oracle, who was the spiritual guider of the world. And there was Switch, who helped get the bug out of Neo and seemed skilled despite biting the dust early in the first picture.

But now, we see that the producers haven't sold us a new world at all — the bombshell in the tight skirt is back, and she has the control.

I thought Persephone was there to remind Trinity "Yeah, Neo loves you and you're strong, but it's me who is getting you out of here and manipulating you into watching your lover kiss me." It seemed her role was to punish Trinity for the choices she had made. To show the lady in black that beauty and a traditional female role would get you power — and a pretty good table at a restaurant, living a life of ease.

I also was surprised to see the meagre role Trinity occupied in the city of Zion. When they returned at the beginning of Matrix Reloaded, she shrinks off while Neo's admirers gather around. Despite mentioning earlier that she's the next ranking officer on the ship after Morpheus, she doesn't come to any of the discussions with the governing council or ship crews.

The bottom line — during the sequels, Trinity goes from a person who is passionate about her cause [freeing humanity and ending the machines' reign] to a person who is passionate about the Neo cause — just help him in any way possible. Yes, love does change you. But it's like she loses all her own reasons for doing things, instead substituting Neo's wants and needs as reasons. He is the savior, yes, but in believing in him, she loses sight of herself.

She also goes from an action character to an action caricature. Yes, she needs to put on a tough face while in the Matrix, but she goes from a thinking, reasoning, tough character to one who spouts lines like: "Touch me and that hand will never touch anything again" (Matrix Reloaded) and "I don't have time for this shit." [fight ensues and she puts a gun to the Merovingian's head] "You wanna make a deal? How about this? You give me Neo or we all die, right here, right now" (Matrix Revolutions). Hey, she's suddenly the bitchy action chick from 100-plus other films!

"Trinity," as in the concept, exists perfectly in the first Matrix film. But plot continuity, philosophy and larger points of the series aside, the changes in her character are where The Matrix series went wrong for me. It may seem ridiculous to some that I wrote a 1,000-word piece on the character. But the "Trinity" I saw in The Matrix made me care and hope for better film treatment of females, and I wish someone has the guts to resurrect "Trinity" in the future and see her through.

What Is the Matrix?