The Bride: Kicking Lara Croft's spandex ass

Tonight I saw Kill Bill with my friend Clay. You've already heard about how it's a hip, bloody, aggressive movie full of pure action and light on plot. All of that is true. Kill Bill is an efficient film. On her wedding day The Bride was shot and left for dead. Her husband was killed and her unborn child was lost. She is going to find and kill the people that did it.

That's all there really is. It's all we need. The simplicity of the premise makes the film as razor-sharp as The Bride's Hattori Hanzo blade. Kill Bill is a haiku soaked in blood.

Something that really struck me, which I haven't heard discussed elsewhere, is that Kill Bill is the strongest feminist statement in years. I'm not talking about the kind of feminism that goes to a protest march. These characters have more important things to do. I'm not talking about the lame "Girl Power" marketing slogan spewed by the Spice Girls as they shoved their silicone tits at the camera. The women in Kill Bill simply go about their business. Yes, they happen to be some of the most attractive women you'll ever see, but they don't give a damn. They don't need cleavage to get things done. They're cold-blooded killers first and foremost.

Not once does Tarantino's film get on a soapbox and say "See, women can be strong and independent!" Even movies with strong female heroes like Alien or Terminator 2 treated the strength of the women as something unusual. There was always a skeptical male character who questioned their ability. In Kill Bill the power of women is assumed. It is a fact.

One man, a follower of O-Ren Ishii (played by Lucy Liu), dared to question her heritage. She decapitated him in the blink of an eye. Not once was there a man questioning a woman's ability based on her gender. They wouldn't be that foolish.

That's not to say that The Bride and her enemies have given up their femininity. When Uma Thurman's character wakes from her coma and reaches down to her flat stomach, knowing that her child is no longer there, her anguish is deep and primal. She's doesn't need to become a man to accomplish her mission. Her revenge is fueled by the righteous anger of a mother whose child has been ripped from her.

That's not to say Tarantino doesn't sexualize the women here and there. The man clearly has a foot fetish. Nothing else can explain the screen time devoted to worshipping Uma's lumpy hooves, but even that seems somehow affirming. Her feet are the one un-sexy part of Uma Thurman's body.

Of course everything I've written here is a footnote to the movie. It's not about the equality of women. It's about women with swords cutting people to tiny, bloody bits. It's about kung fu. It's about revenge. It's about the most fun I've had in a theater.

Posted by Xkot at October 18, 2003 03:25 AM | Speak It | Trackback