Is This What Feminism Is All About?

By playing out a male fantasy, Thelma & Louise shows Hollywood is still a man's world

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The pair can't seem to just have fun with each other on this woman's weekend in which they are finally free of the men who hem them in. Thelma is still the teenager at the slumber party who gets bored and has to call a few boys to come over. Less than an hour out of town, she talks Louise into stopping at a raunchy bar, where she dances with a creep who then tries to rape her in the parking lot. The women are sympathetic enough characters by this time so that we leap over the hurdle many adventure movies present -- Why didn't they call the police? -- and rationalize what might be a cold-blooded murder as an act of self-defense. That way we can climb into that green Thunderbird, put down the roof and go along for the joyride.

But it becomes harder and harder to root for the heroines, who make the wrong choice at every turn and act more like Clint Eastwood than Katharine Hepburn. The day after her near rape, Thelma is begging Louise to pick up a hitchhiker. It requires a breathtaking midair somersault of faith to believe Thelma would be eager to take up with another stranger so soon and would let him into her motel room and go limp with desire after he admits he robs convenience stores for a living.

The turning point of Thelma's character rests on one of the most enduring and infuriating male myths in the culture: the only thing an unhappy woman needs is good sex to make everything all right. After a night of knock-over- the-nightstand sex with the hitchhiker, Thelma comes down to the coffee shop suffused with satisfaction and tells Louise, "I finally understand what all the fuss is about." Thelma is transformed, more confident and buoyant than she has ever been, reducing her angst to the simplistic notion that she was stuck with a husband who was insufficiently accomplished in the bedroom.

Despite such flaws, which leave you wondering if screenwriter Callie Khouri isn't just fronting for Hugh Hefner, Thelma & Louise is a movie with legs. Long after the movie is done entertaining, it stirs up questions about why men and women remain mysteries to each other. It has its small triumphs. Susan Sarandon makes Hollywood a little safer for older actresses; she fearlessly plays next to someone 10 years younger. And at least Thelma and Louise stop short of emulating Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, who use their remaining ammunition to go out in a blaze of testosteronic glory. The movie may not have the impact of Fatal Attraction, but next time a woman passes an 18-wheeler and points her finger like a pistol at the tires, the driver might just put his tongue back in his mouth where it belongs.

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