HAVE YOU noticed that weaving through the Dialectic archives there is a series about fictional female role models called “Let’s hear it for…”? If you have, give yourself a pat on the back: you are clearly paying attention and a Dialectic subscriber of long standing. By definition, the fictional women who have featured - Ellen Ripley, Marge Gunderson, Saga Norén and Purdey - are very superior women, and this is sometimes illustrated by showing how they outshine men. I would not wish to hurt the tender feelings of any of my male readers, so before I talk about the subject of today’s article I want to make something clear: I like men.
Men are great. I’m married to one, and I have enjoyed warm friendships with a few. Male artists of every discipline have brought more joy to my life than I can express, and that alone is a good enough reason to be grateful for the male sex, but needless to say, there’s a downside. Some men are not very nice to women, and because they are stronger, they can do us a lot of damage. It’s not fair. Nor is it fair that through the ages, women have had to fight so hard to rise above the restrictions that society has placed upon them, which is why I like to promote female confidence (I distrust the word “empowerment” so don’t expect to see it here). It pleases me to talk about a fictional female character who rises above those suffocating societal restrictions, shining a light for women and girls to help illuminate the long path to fulfilment.
I’m prevaricating. That’s because the subject of this post is probably one of the strongest, toughest, man-pulverising female characters that you will see in a movie. I must emphasise that she doesn’t hate men either, but she’s prepared to deal with the nastier variety with dispatch. It’s The Bride from Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill, played by Uma Thurman. The character is very feminine; she’s brave, and she employs her exceptional physical skills and mental discipline to vanquish the most lethal enemies, both male and female. We are are given an inkling of her exceptional fortitude very early in Volume 1 when she kills two sex offenders in the most lurid ways; the first by chewing off his lip, the second by banging his head repeatedly in a door, despite the fact that at that point she is temporarily paralysed from the waist down. Don’t let this put you off: with skilful editing and a directorial emphasis on style rather than horror, the violence is bearable and more importantly, those two creeps had it coming.
OK ladies, I think that was the sound of the door slamming several times in quick succession; it looks like it’s just us from hereon in. Can’t blame them really. I think I’d have done the same if the boot was on the other foot. So let me tell you why, if you haven’t seen Kill Bill Volumes 1 and 2, you might want to remedy that. On paper this may not be the kind of movie that you would normally watch - it isn’t the kind of movie that I would normally watch - and it’s purely by chance that I find myself commending it to you today, but here’s why.
Many years ago I was going through a period of insomnia. One sleepless night I decided to stop lying in the dark, staring wild-eyed in the direction of the ceiling, get up and do something productive with the time. I heaved a mountain of clean washing out of the airing cupboard, dragged out the ironing board and set myself up in front of the TV to polish it off. By chance they were showing an interview with the director Quentin Tarantino about his latest film, Kill Bill. By now he was famous and influential having made Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction (1994), as well as the superb Jackie Brown (1997), none of which I had seen at that point, so he had the clout to be given a free hand to make a movie incorporating some of his favourite elements of cinema genres. Although I had not hitherto been all that interested in his films, his infectious enthusiasm and energy made me want to see his latest release, so when it came out we went to our local cinema to see whether it would live up to expectations.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Dialectic to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.