Thelma & Louise-Ridley Scott

Thelma and Louise is a movie that I, as an obvious cinephile, had still not seen until July 4th of 2024, when I was on the cusp of turning 40 years old. Embarrassing to admit? I don't know. I don't feel that way, as there is still a multitude of titles out there with widespread acclaim I still have yet to see. But nevertheless, I can safely say that I now have seen this movie. Up until the 4th of July Thelma and Louise was always a film I had only seen mocked or parodied in many other comedies (Waynes World & Naked Gun 33 1/3, among others). Generally speaking, if I were a filmmaker and saw my work being mocked, I would be honored. Most movies that are used as fodder for other films that don't take their craft with any degree of seriousness are usually successful at both the box office and the tabloids. *** Little did I know that Thelma and Louise would be the spark that would lead me down the road this summer into reading and watching more works with a serious focus on female empowerment. As of writing this review I am halfway through a terrific book by Katy Hessel called The History of Art Without Men and have seen several other films—both recently and in the past—where the central theme is about giving credit to both the triumphs and strife women endure that the grand masses are not privy to. If we as men are to be transparent with ourselves, then we must admit that there are far more sociopathic Daryl Dickinson's (Christopher McDonald) and Harlan Pucketts (Timothy Carhart) than there are empathetic Hal Slocumb's (Harvey Keitel) running wild in modern day social jungles. Is this accurate as to how men, homosapiens, as a species, are intrinsically programmed? Where the respectful chivalrous gentleman is an anomaly and the rest of the vast majority are cologne-drenched cavemen whose primitive behavior isn't too dissimilar from their paleolithic ancestors? I don't think so. But other films (Women Talking) and a multitude of feminist movements and writings would argue to the contrary. In Women Talking Sarah Polley presents the question to August (Ben Whishaw), a suicidal emasculated stenographer "August, you're the boys' teacher. What is your feeling about this? Do boys of that age pose a risk to our girls and women?" And his response was, "Yes. Possibly. Boys of 13 or 14 are capable of causing great damage to girls and women. And to each other. It is a brash age. They are possessed of reckless urges, physical exuberance, intense curiosity that often results in injury. Unbridled emotion, including deep tenderness and empathy, and not quite enough experience or brain development to fully understand or appreciate the consequences of their words or actions. They are like the yearlings. Young, awkward, gleeful, powerful. They're tall, muscular, sexually inquisitive creatures, with little impulse control, but they are children."  Now, I don't deny that boys/men are conditioned from an early age to objectify women. Only speaking from first-hand experience in having grown up in the 90s when misogynistic and homophobic behavior was not only acceptable but encouraged—women were objectified in virtually every aspect of life. WWE was at its apex and (almost) every single female wrestler was only put into the squared circle for their visual appeal, where commentators (grown men in their 40s+, mind you) would drool and refer to them as bitches and their breasts as puppies. Howard Stern routinely held butter face contests and had whores riding on the studio sibian. Stifler was a fictional pop-culture icon. Hip Hop embraced it wholeheartedly (I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one, Pop that P***y). Locker room talk (Grab 'em by the pussy) was about as raunchy as it gets (still is) and only transfers over to the bars when you turn 21. You were pressured by your peers to get laid and (more often than not) slander them for kicks after the deed was done. These are the ugly truths of what it is like growing up as a male. *Now, I also must admit that we have made ardent strides to rectify these issues and recognize them for what they were. But, as any simple scroll through Instagram or the astounding dollar amounts attached to the pornography business can attest to, there's still a lot of work to be done. For instance, take a moment to scan over the adulation of fanboys when WWE/AEW female wrestlers are perceived to be single, then contrast that with the unfettered vitriol and body-shamming that comes from the very same losers once relationships become unfounded.* Does the transparency of these admissions exonerate us as males from the development of misogynistic tendencies? Not necessarily. But all hope is not lost and I do not believe these misguided tendencies to be embedded within our DNA. Most men—at least the ones I surround myself with—tend to grow out of these habits and learn to cultivate genuine appreciation and respect for women. Sadly though, there is also a large conglomerate of men who never grow out of these juvenile habits and fail to recognize the shallow depth of these barbaric ideologies. Which inevitably leads to unsatisfying relationships with the opposite sex and calloused hearts. In Thelma and Louise, I do not see this as a fantasy of women finally getting the last laugh and striking back against the latter two of these groups. But it felt more or less like a profound statement of self-respect. Women, by and large, were simply sick of putting up with the world's shit. Tired of being suffocated by unappreciative husbands. Tired of being talked down to by chauvinist pigs and then expected to take it in stride. Tired of playing a subservient role. Tired of being touched without consent. Tired of not being respected. And willing to go to the grave in defense of these proclamations. So far as road movies go this one is right up there with the rest of the greats. Midnight Run, Tommy Boy, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Rain Man, Bonnie and Clyde, Dutch. These are all fun films and Thelma and Louise are just as good as any of the aforementioned. With Ridley Scott's mastery of photography in capturing the landscape of the American Southwest and phenomenal score by Hans Zimmer you really can't go wrong. I enjoyed this story. It brought me back in time to a decade, that, despite its primitive mindset, was my favorite of all time (so far). Harvey Keitel showcased his versatility, Christopher McDonald found his nitch as THE supreme silver screen dickhead, Brad Pitt was great as the drifter, and Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon took the torch ignited by Sigourney Weaver's Ripley and carried it to even greater heights. Despite the obvious undertones the core was relatively simple and broadcast an important message that served as a harbinger of things to come. Fun time and a great flick.

Stars: ****

Vedict: Watch

Cousins: Midnight Run, The Hitcher, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Dutch, Monster