Friday, August 12, 1994They’re running a series of “Scary Women” movies at the Pacific Film
Archive, so I BARTed under the Bay for tonight’s double feature.
Thelma & Louise (1991) is an old favorite of mine, but I don’t think Gina Davis or Susan Sarandon are “scary” — they’re playing smart, sensible women. It starts light and breezy, as these two buddies go on a weekend getaway, but the fun and games is interrupted by a rape attempt, and the bad guy ends up dead.
Some right-wing idiots got all in a dither when the movie came out,
damning it as man-hating feminism or an endorsement of anarchy or
something. Can’t have a rapist getting his just desserts, I guess.
Here’s a reliable rule of thumb: When right-wingers are hollering about
something, it’s always worth checking it out.
T & L offers a feminist statement, I guess, if only
because the story is about the women, not their boyfriends, husbands,
brothers, or fathers. That alone makes it stand out from the mainly
male-centered crap the studios release every Friday. Beyond that, it’s a
solid story about making the best of a crappy situation, starring women
who’d frighten any Republican, and that’s a good thing.
Daisies (1966) is a Czechoslovakian comedy from the ‘60s about two
wild and crazy women. They’re looking for a good time, which decidedly
does not include looking for men — except to fleece them for fancy
dinners and ditch them at the train. The director (whose name, sorry, I
can’t remember or spell) was perhaps too infatuated with
semi-experimental film techniques, which I found distracting, but once
accustomed to the photographic trickery, the slapstick story line won me
over.
For its courage and probably for mocking men, Daisies was
banned in its native country, and like the right-wing rule (see above),
that’s a guarantee that there’s something worthwhile.
The movie is funny all the way through, with at least three hilarious
sequences that made me think I’m too fat to safely laugh as hard as I
did — the banquet for two, where our heroines obliterate a fancy feast
made for 20; the glitzy night club, where they won’t stop laughing at
the show and drinking other people’s drinks, and most memorably, and listening to a lusty man’s romantic pleadings over the phone, while our
leading ladies scissor sausages, bananas, carrots, and suspiciously long
pastries.
Sometimes a sausage is just a sausage, but sometimes it isn’t. I was still snickering on the subway ride home.
This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The
opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions
now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance
is advised.
Leave a Reply