MS.45 (Abel Ferrara, 1981)

Thana, a young woman, is walking home after a long day's work, making her way through a thicket of leering men. Cut to her apartment, where somebody's breaking in through a window. A classic set up: we know she's walking straight towards danger and, as much as we'd like to warn her, all we can do is wait for the axe to fall. And fall it does, only not when expected: well before she can reach home, a masked assailant snatches her, drags her to a back alley and rapes her. And then it falls again as Thana, shocked and bruised, trudges to her apartment, where the previously seen intruder rapes her at gunpoint. This is an Abel Ferrara film, and this is is 1981 New York City, where you can get raped on your way to getting raped.

Well, at least the second rapist gets his head smashed in for his effort, so there is hope after all.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

After being met with a vicious critical bashing upon release, and after surviving through a lengthy history of censorship, Ms.45 has gained quite a cult following as one of the best offers from the heyday of exploitation cinema. Its reputation, however, paints a somewhat inaccurate representation of what elevates this picture from the mass of female rape-revenge flicks. First of all, Ferrara takes great care to avoid making the sexual assault scenes titillating in any way: you know the kind of mixed message you get from, say, They Call Her One Eye, with the film simultaneously shouting “This is horrible!” and “Check those boobies!”, short-circuiting many a viewer's moral centre? None of that here, the camera tends to linger on Thana's pained face rather than going straight to show nudity. It's the murderin' that follows that Ferrara chooses to charge with overt sexuality, as our protagonist begins to discover hers – and the control it brings.

Thana, in fact, starts off as a saintly effigy of innocence and vulnerability: fragile in build, conservatively dressed, graced with angelic features and extremely introverted by way of her being mute. By the time she manages to fight off and kill the second attacker, a drastic metamorphosis begins to take place. Instead of calling the authorities, she opts to dismember the villain, keep the pieces in the freezer and gradually get rid of him.

Let's make a side note here: why do that, why not call the cops? I believe it's not a mere case of convenient plotting. From the very start, Ferrara assumes this fragile woman's point of view, casting an exaggerated eye on the hostile world that surrounds her and showing every single man she meets as a lusting monster inhabiting a stereotype: there's the catcalling greaser, the sleazy art-type, the white-clad pimp and so on. Add to the mix the despicable, yet widespread practice of victim shaming that still goes on in today's society, something to which the film hints via some lines of dialogue (mostly coming from Thana's nosy neighbour). In this context it becomes understandable why a monumentally traumatized woman would go down that path.

It is, after all, a way to take control and stop being the victim. A twisted way, of course, because all that suffering and the whole body-dumping business take a massive toll on Thana's mind. She starts carrying the .45 caliber she lifted off the assaulter, and pretty soon circumstances lead her to unload it on a poor sucker who's running after her, trying to give her back the bag (full of body parts) she left on a sidewalk. After this, the flood, as Thana kills man after man, starting with one she sees abusing a prostitute, then moving on to a douchy photographer who sleazily courts her. This is another turning point for Thana: discovering that she can use her attractiveness to lure men to their doom ups the ante of her mission. Starting to dress provocatively and wearing heavy make up, Thana becomes an active agent of vengeance, prowling the streets looking for folks to kill.

The real problems arise when she starts taking that "all men are pigs" ethos a bit too far, going after guys who've done nothing wrong - turns out they do exist. The director here takes a smart left turn from what, unti now, has been a hardline feminist view of gender relations, turning Thana from vengeful vigilante to straight-up murderer. Here is where Ms.45 comes to differ from the spat of Michael Winner right wing wet dreams, acknoloweding the intrinsic fuckeupness of revenge-fueled vigilantism while never really leaving Thana's side - she actually doesn't kill anyone underserving. Not directly, at least.

Quite interesting here is how the protagonist's wardrobe has been changing to clearly mark the various stages of her killing spree. If Thana's change from victim to praying mantis is marked by her switch to sexier clothing, her turn to stalking innocents shows her garbed in an elegant, reaper-like hooded cloak. For the wild climax, the lady dons a (smoking hot, gotta be said) nun costue.

A nun costume, yes: 'cause there's a big Halloween party to attend. There, Thana ends up mowing down a bunch of male partygoers in slow-to-the-point-of-parody motion, before being stabbed in the back by a female colleague. "Sister?", wheezes Thana as she crumbles to the ground, betrayed by her own kind. Were you really expecting Ferrara to keep his catholic obsessions at bay? Then a nice, thick helping of Jesus analogies is here for your enjoyment.

Quite the character arc, right? Generally speaking, stuff of this sort had been seen before, but Ms.45 brings a lot of nuance and thoughtfulness to the table, setting it apart from the lesser works of the era. Let's be clear: I'm not trying to sell a sledgehammer provocateur like early Ferrara as a man of particular subtlety, as the film provides enough cheap tricks to keep any knuckle dragger in his seat. Still, there's a lot in here that confirms the presence of a superior filmmaker at the wheel. Absolutely worth noting is how it's the act of killing that triggers Thana's sexual awakening, rather than the rape experience itself - I could easily see many lesser filmmakers going down that troubling road, but Ferrara and screenwriter Nicholas St. John, thankfully, knew better.

The absolute coup, I have to say, is the casting of then newcomer Zoë Tamerlis Lund in the role of Thana. The actress, who would later end up co-writing Bad Lieutenant, carries the entire film on her shoulders, doing an astounding job of it. She transforms from innocent wallflower to implacable, manipulative, murdering bombshell without breaking a sweat, adopting changes in demeanour and posture to mark Thana's internal changes.

Ferrara himself does a remarkable job n the director's seat: if the more mundane scenes are shot quite anonymously, the film springs to life once the killing spree begins, using harsh, violent editing to have the murders appear way more gruesome than they actually are. There's plenty of callbacks to Taxi Driver, from the setting that gradually moves to the grimier parts of town, to a cheeky, silent homage to Travis Bickle's mirror scene. The most glaring analogy, though, is certainly that bloody, final shootout. Rip-off or homage? A bit of both, maybe, even though Taxi Driver's ghost looms inescapable over any NYC crime/thriller of the pre-Giuliani purge.

For those on the lookout for a rare example of high minded exploitation, Ms. 45 is a compulsory watch, also representing the first truly worthwile outing in Ferrara's long career. Whoever says "B-but what about Driller Killer?" gets a punch in the mouth.

MS. 45
Year: 1981
Genre: Female revenge/vigilante

Director: Abel Ferrara
Writer: Nicholas St. John
Starring:  Zoë Tamerlis Lund, Albert Sinkys, Darlene Stuto