Amazon Warrior (1997)
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Posted By: Stuart Baket on March 28, 2020 Amazon Warrior (1997) There's just something about a worldwide apocalypse that brings the battle of the sexes to the forefront. Actually, it also seems prevalent in sword-and-sorcery flicks too (how many militant feminist cults have challenged mighty-thewed warriors? you do the math), which shares the revisionist primativism of post-holocaust movies (you can order the best movie review, film essays and research papers in our paper writing service ). In both cases, it seems natural that the rough-and-tumble world should fall into the hands of burly menfolk (they are the ones with the mighty thews, after all), but this being Modern Times (question -- when HASN'T it been "Modern Times"?), we feel uncomfortable portraying completely patriarchal societies, especially when we don't have the defense of portraying an honest historical milieu. Thus, to add a strong female element to the setting, brawny men keep finding themselves up against proto-feminist warrior tribes in both genres -- though, in deference to the fact that it's mostly non-brawny males watching these movies, the proto-feminists still have bleach-blonde hair, smooth legs, and killer abs. All of which means I spend far too much time thinking about subtext when watching silly post-apocalyptic movies. After the obligatory prologue/voiceover explaining to the slow-minded the whole concept of "we blew everything up, and now the whole world looks like the Californian desert," we meet our Amazons , who spend all their time in rabbit-fur bikinis on guard-duty. This may be a first for the cinematic treatment of all-female societies, though, in that there are actually (gasp!) young ones. Tara, who lives in a hut with her Amazon mother, may be all of twelve, and there are a couple of others glimpsed. (No boys, though; that may be disallowed in the membership charter.) The women, though, are standardly beachbunny/fitness model types, right down to the boob implants. (Given that none of them use longbows, they don't have the necessity of chopping of their right breasts like those original Amazons did.) Tara, by the way, will be our hero, as telegraphed by the fact that she admired her mother's necklace, which long-dead Dad made for her. As long-time filmgoers will immediately recognize, that means that Mom is soon to die a wrongful death, and the necklace will then be an icon of revenge. And bingo. (Ah, the transcendent language of cinema...) The Amazons are attacked by Marauders, i.e., stinky hairy men in ripped shirts and camo pants. There's just something about uppity wimmen that raises the hackles of a Real Man who's so Real that he hasn't been able to get within a lady's radar for years. They're not even that intent on showing them who's boss; nope, they just start killing them, with some occasional licking of blood. Tara and Mom are down by the pond for a hygienic swim, though, so they arrive late to the party, when everyone else is dead and most of the men are off drinking or something. There still enough for Mom to get a bit of a body count going before she's finally ganged up on and killed. Tara, hiding in a hollow log the size of Cleveland, is thus... the Last Amazon. Twenty years later, she's now J.J. Rodgers, a tough-as-nails sword-wielding mercenary for hire who responds to a call from local landowner named Berelli (Bob Sherer) for someone to shepherd his two daughters across the Badlands. Berelli's town -- which is creatively named Berelli, I think -- seems to be composed entirely of pavillion tents, and peopled by citizens who belong at a Renaissance Festival. (It was no surprise to see a thank-you to the Society for Creative Anachronism in the closing credits.) The daughters, Jana and Vana, are played by Athena Demos and Zrinka Domic, and look so unlike each other that I think maybe Berelli's wife discovered the last milkman to survive the apocalypse. Tara quickly succeeds at the challenge Berelli puts her to -- killing three captured Marauders in open combat -- and is given the job, guiding the prissy sisters through the wilderness with their skins intact. Much ostensible comedy comes from their adjustment to wearing Amazon-style bunnyfur instead of their fine fabrics, being startled by mutant animals, sleeping on the ground, etc. In contrast, Tara is capable in the outdoors but can't read or count, and covers for her own feelings of inferiority by being snippy and brusque. But wait, there's more -- on her trip to chez Berelli and then out, Tara keeps running into a ponytailed swordsman (Jimmy Jerman, and nobody says his name aloud -- "Clint" -- until the last twenty minutes). She ends up rescuing him from marauder capture, which turns out to have been a setup; Clint's trying to get inside the marauder headcamp. See, there's this famous General Steiner (Raymond Storti) who has for the last couple of decades been bringing the various marauder tribes under his umbrella. (Because bringing unwashed barbarians together in one place in great quantities is, supposedly, a good thing.) Steiner killed Clint's family, so Clint's on the Revenge Superhighway. And since Tara's got a good-sized chip against the marauders on her shoulder, they decide to travel together for the time being, and maybe she'll get a chance to get her licks in. What's surprising from here is that, no lie, there's a plot. Everyone is not what they seem, and doublecrosses abound, ending up in Steiner's camp for some Amazon ass-kicking. And would it surprise you to find out that Steiner's the guy who killed Tara's mom, and is currently wearing her necklace? I didn't think so. Would it also surprise you that Tara and Clint end up getting friendly? Granted, it's not immediately -- she's got that holdover Amazon man-hater thing going on, to the point that she has no idea what's going on when each of Berelli's daughters sneak into Clint's tent. But in the end, he does get to Teach Her This Thing Called Love. Granted, it's a silly, forgettable little movie. However, given how many entries in this genre (Italian ones, especially) go past "forgettable" right into "please let me forget this," it ranks fairly high on the bell curve, especially when the visibly miniscule budget is taken into account. (One could start a dangerous drinking game counting the obvious signs of civilization in the background of shots, and if the Badlands were more than two acres of California countryside, I'll be struck speechless.) It's also not above poking fun at the genre, which -- again, in contrast to those dreary Italian Road Warrior ripoffs -- is refreshing. Which leads me to my biggest complaint which isn't a direct outgrowth of budget or genre conventions: While I appreciate humor, it's too inconsistent. At times we veer almost into parody, but wholesale slaughter keeps pulling us back from comedy into simple cavalier lightheartedness. It would sit better if it were either funnier, or less funny -- as long as it made up its mind. There are also other matters which could easily have been developed into distinctive and ambitious subplots and themes, but which were apparently glossed over forlack of ambition. The attack on the Amazons was motivated not only by simple conquest, but also by the idea that one takes the power of defeated enemies into him/herself. This is mentioned in passing a couple of times, but I guess nobody realized that right there was a nifty little idea that could have repercussions on character and action that would set this movie apart from most of the other run-of-the-mill post-holocaust flicks. But, as noted above, I'm thinking too much. In terms of microbudget post-apocalyptic fare, it's possible to do worse. Much, much worse. If you enjoyed this article, Join HBCU CONNECT today for similar content and opportunities via email! |
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Stuart Baket
From Chicago, IL Alabama A&M University class of 2008 Member Since March 2020 |
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