‘Ms .45’: Abel Ferrara’s stunning tale of revenge
One of the most widely debated genres in cinema history is easily rape and revenge. Many movies that fall into this category align closely with the horror or exploitation genres and, more often than not, are directed by men. Thus, much controversy surrounds these rape-revenge flicks, with many feminist scholars criticising specific films from the genre for featuring gratuitous, drawn-out scenes of sexual violence against women.
However, it is important to assess each rape-revenge film individually. While many are exploitative and uncomfortable to watch, some genuinely succeed in their aims of bringing female autonomy and independence to the forefront. Abel Ferrara’s Ms .45 is a terrific entry to the complex genre, taking a nuanced look at one woman’s experience with rape and its traumatic aftermath.
The movie stars Zoë Tamerlis Lund as a mute young woman named Thana whose life is completely altered after she is raped in an alleyway. With a gun held to her head, she is violently assaulted before running home, only to be raped again by a burglar. The film shows how common it is for instances like these to happen, particularly in a busy city like New York, where danger seems to lurk around every corner.
The narrative begins with Thana walking home through the city streets, the sun still shining bright outside. She stops to buy groceries, an oblivious look on her face as she scans the aisles for food; meanwhile, clips of a burglar breaking into her apartment are cut between these moments of unawareness. Then, while hugging a bag of groceries to her chest, she is snatched into an alleyway by a masked rapist and subsequently attacked.
The way that Ferrera depicts these highly sensitive moments feels incredibly different to many other rape-revenge films. There is a complete absence of glorification of the act or objectification of Lund’s character. The first rape scene features close-up shots of the masked man as much as Lund’s face, which is in complete shock and confusion. It is a quick sequence, which is followed by substantial shots of Thana’s spaced-out, dazed appearance, clearly struggling to process what just happened.
Soon after, she is attacked again, but there is nothing remotely sexual about the scene. We see her stunned face slowly begin to plot a way out of the torture, and then she grabs a decorative glass apple and whacks the stranger over the head before killing him with an iron. Left to deal with his remains, she dismembers him and takes his gun, thus marking the beginning of her journey towards becoming a mass killer.
Over the following days, she shoots countless men who threaten her safety, becoming more ruthless and hostile with every kill. She remains mute, but she finds power in seeking revenge, eventually appearing more glamorous in comparison to her initial plainness. She becomes a character far removed from herself – one that shoots men with the same ease as getting dressed, donning heavier makeup and wearing sleek black attire.
Thana’s transformation is fascinating to witness. As she starts to live in a pure fantasy land, blinded by her PTSD, we wonder where she can go from here. She starts killing men who have expressed misogynistic statements, going far beyond murdering men out of self-defence.
The movie succeeds in the rape-revenge genre as it focuses so little on depicting the acts of rape that set off the chain of events within the film. Instead, when it is shown near the start, it is mechanical, often showing the attacker’s face – there is nothing erotic or enticing about it. Subsequently, we embark on a journey led by a woman fighting for men to stop disturbing her peace, desiring to be allowed to roam the streets as freely as they can.
There reaches a point where Thana’s perception of reality completely melts due to the trauma she has experienced, and Lund expertly commands the audience. It’s an entirely physical performance, relying on actions and expressions, and she masters the art of conveying so much without uttering a word. In one scene, dressed as a nun for a Halloween party, she wields her gun in the mirror as though this is all a big game to her – she has truly lost her sense of sanity.
Thana is eventually killed by a woman wielding a knife, holding it near her crotch to create the ultimate phallic symbol. Ferrara doesn’t allow her to get away with her crimes, which start as a form of revenge and self-defence before devolving into arbitrary acts of violence. Yet, the film seems to understand Thana’s trauma. Perhaps that is the true subversive nature of the movie – not the idea of a quiet young woman gaining a thrill from serial killing.
