Back in the 30s and 40s, there was a kind of movie known as the women's picture. These were typically romantic dramas told from a female perspective, and while they often featured headstrong intelligent women (at least by the standards of typical portrayals), they would often have some kind of moral at the end about being a loyal and obedient wife as a kind of final goal in a woman's life. It was a long time, even years after the era of women's lib that patriarchy in the movies began to be completely deconstructed. The subject of women driven to murder by the actions of men was not a new one when Thelma & Louise was made in 1991. But if you look at a picture like Play Misty for Me from two decades earlier, where a used woman becomes the antagonist in a Psycho-type thriller, or I Spit on your Grave (1978) in which a woman's revenge for being raped could only be shown in a lurid exploitation movie, we can see how far the perspective has had to shift.
Thelma & Louise, brilliantly scripted by Callie Kouri, gives an explanation for violence by women towards men, and it does so with amazing simplicity. There are no explicit arguments made. No character makes an overt feminist statement – the closest it comes to that is a by-the-way reminder by Geena Davis to the abducted policeman to be nice to his wife. The message, as it were, is up there in the screen as the story takes place. And although the basic outline of Thelma & Louise is very much out-of-the-ordinary for most women, if you break it down moment by moment, the men they encounter and the exchanges they have are very much on the near side of normal.
A lot of Thelma & Louise's power is in its magnificent cast. Both Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis have a remarkable realism that demonstrates a great rapport between the two characters. When they laugh together, it's the laughter of two friends. Sarandon is brilliant at keeping that mystery to her character – the secret in Louise's past is bubbling under the surface of her performance long before it is revealed to the audience. Davis does an excellent job of showing character development, growing from the sheltered housewife into an independent woman comfortable with her newfound criminality. And it's neat how her sense of playfulness remains somehow consistent even as she changes. There are plenty of decent supporting performances as well. Brad Pitt was obviously chosen primarily for his youthful good looks, but he can act with it. Michael Madsen is very good too, intimidating in his controlled anger, but radiating a presence that makes his attractiveness to Louise understandable.
The movie is directed by that meticulous craftsman Ridley Scott. He manages the movement in the frame with expert control for the right effect. In the opening scenes, the camera follows Sarandon around the chaos of the café. As she moves into a backroom during her phone call to Davis, the movement in the background tails off but is kept going by the chef juggling a can, and then as she moves across further the backdrop becomes the tranquil fish tank. These natural-looking set-ups are carefully controlling the mood of the image. As this road movie progresses, the backgrounds become increasingly wide open and breathtakingly beautiful, in line with the spirits of its protagonists. Scott culminates all this with some wonderful stylisation in the final action sequence. The movie would be in danger of becoming overly technical if it wasn't for his almost constant focus on Davis and Sarandon's faces, such as their quiet smiles as they cross Monument Valley by night.
For all its feminist modernity, as a type of movie, Thelma & Louise treads familiar ground. The story of sympathetic criminals running free across the country as fate closes in can be seen in such classics as High Sierra (1941), Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). Really, the only major difference here is that the criminals are both women, not a couple of male hoods or a gangster and his moll. And yet, all it takes is this simple gender substitution to speak volumes about the experience of women in this society. That it does so without resorting to sermonising, and keeping up a healthy feeling of fun, makes Thelma & Louise an outstanding motion picture.
Thelma & Louise, brilliantly scripted by Callie Kouri, gives an explanation for violence by women towards men, and it does so with amazing simplicity. There are no explicit arguments made. No character makes an overt feminist statement – the closest it comes to that is a by-the-way reminder by Geena Davis to the abducted policeman to be nice to his wife. The message, as it were, is up there in the screen as the story takes place. And although the basic outline of Thelma & Louise is very much out-of-the-ordinary for most women, if you break it down moment by moment, the men they encounter and the exchanges they have are very much on the near side of normal.
A lot of Thelma & Louise's power is in its magnificent cast. Both Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis have a remarkable realism that demonstrates a great rapport between the two characters. When they laugh together, it's the laughter of two friends. Sarandon is brilliant at keeping that mystery to her character – the secret in Louise's past is bubbling under the surface of her performance long before it is revealed to the audience. Davis does an excellent job of showing character development, growing from the sheltered housewife into an independent woman comfortable with her newfound criminality. And it's neat how her sense of playfulness remains somehow consistent even as she changes. There are plenty of decent supporting performances as well. Brad Pitt was obviously chosen primarily for his youthful good looks, but he can act with it. Michael Madsen is very good too, intimidating in his controlled anger, but radiating a presence that makes his attractiveness to Louise understandable.
The movie is directed by that meticulous craftsman Ridley Scott. He manages the movement in the frame with expert control for the right effect. In the opening scenes, the camera follows Sarandon around the chaos of the café. As she moves into a backroom during her phone call to Davis, the movement in the background tails off but is kept going by the chef juggling a can, and then as she moves across further the backdrop becomes the tranquil fish tank. These natural-looking set-ups are carefully controlling the mood of the image. As this road movie progresses, the backgrounds become increasingly wide open and breathtakingly beautiful, in line with the spirits of its protagonists. Scott culminates all this with some wonderful stylisation in the final action sequence. The movie would be in danger of becoming overly technical if it wasn't for his almost constant focus on Davis and Sarandon's faces, such as their quiet smiles as they cross Monument Valley by night.
For all its feminist modernity, as a type of movie, Thelma & Louise treads familiar ground. The story of sympathetic criminals running free across the country as fate closes in can be seen in such classics as High Sierra (1941), Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). Really, the only major difference here is that the criminals are both women, not a couple of male hoods or a gangster and his moll. And yet, all it takes is this simple gender substitution to speak volumes about the experience of women in this society. That it does so without resorting to sermonising, and keeping up a healthy feeling of fun, makes Thelma & Louise an outstanding motion picture.