Zoë Tamerlis Lund (February 9, 1962 – April 16, 1999)
Our Eibon Press tribute of Zoe in Bottomfeeder , the graphic novel
7 notes
·
View notes
That which is not yet, but ought to be, is more real than that which merely is.
| Zoë Tamerlis
5 notes
·
View notes
Bad Lieutenant (1992), dir. Abel Ferrara
Rest in peace Zoe.
39 notes
·
View notes
“It’s no longer a man’s world” IF ONLY
439 notes
·
View notes
365 Day Movie Challenge (2018) - #233: Ms .45 (1981) - dir. Abel Ferrara
After watching the endlessly strange and fascinating drama Bad Lieutenant recently, I knew I had to see some more of controversial director Abel Ferrara’s work. On the surface, Ms .45 is just another exploitation flick from its era, a post-Death Wish/Taxi Driver rape revenge story intended to trade on the sick pleasures of watching a female victim get back at all the men of the world for the sins of a few. And the film is certainly the product of testosterone-driven artists; it was written (Nicholas St. John), directed (Abel Ferrara), photographed (James Lemmo), edited (Christopher Andrews) and scored (Joe Delia) by men. Despite this, it can be argued that without the lead performance of Zoë Lund, then an eighteen-year-old Columbia University student who had never acted before, there would be no Ms .45.
Lund, known at the time by her birth name Zoë Tamerlis, portrays Thana, a mute woman who is employed as a seamstress in Manhattan’s Garment Center neighborhood. One afternoon, while walking home from work, she is sexually assaulted twice; first, by a man in a mask (played by Abel Ferrara) who pulls her into an alley, and then by a robber who had broken into her apartment and lay in wait until Thana opened her door. Already traumatized by her earlier rape, Thana kills the second attacker by bludgeoning him in the head with a paperweight. In a daze, Thana methodically dismembers the rapist’s corpse, lining her fridge with garbage bags full of body parts. Most crucially, Thana takes possession of the man’s gun, hiding it in her purse for daily protection on the city streets.
The gun changes everything about Thana. She transforms from a shy introvert to a vigilante serial killer of men, not merely those who catcall her or try to assault her but citizens who have committed no crime other than being male. Thana’s new identity gives her a voice she never had before, and she adjusts her physical appearance accordingly by wearing heavy makeup and fashionable outfits and by putting her hair up in an efficient ponytail. Aided by her more glamorous image, Thana lures her prey to their deaths in various scenarios; her power is fueled by the sorrow and anger of every woman who has been objectified and hurt by men.
It’s hard to say whether this tale of retribution has a moral at the end or not, although the film concludes with a final scene that wraps up its grim narrative on an unexpectedly light note. Determining whether Ms .45 is a feminist film seems like a moot point since that’s not a term I would use to describe Abel Ferrara, based on the comments I’ve heard him make about Lund and other actresses in interviews - the jury’s still out on screenwriter Nicholas St. John, although I assume his views on women were somewhat similar since he had been friends with Ferrara since high school - but ultimately the film would not have the impact that it has without Zoë Tamerlis Lund as its star. You can never look away from her; she commands every frame with her bright green eyes and her believable development into a vengeful murderer. Late in the film, Thana dons a nun’s habit and bright red lipstick for a Halloween party being thrown by her handsy boss, and the poses that Thana assumes as she looks in a mirror and aims her gun like a big-screen sharpshooter are chillingly reminiscent of Robert De Niro as Travis Bickle.
Was Ms .45 to blame for Lund’s decision to abandon her privileged life (she was a polyglot, a prolific writer and an accomplished musician/composer), temporarily move to Europe and become a heroin addict, the latter of which defined her existence until her drug-related death in 1999? I don’t know; maybe the path she traveled was one she would have found regardless of a cinematic career. In any case, Lund elevates Ms .45 into something more than just a portrait of New York City at its scuzziest. It is both difficult to watch and consistently visually arresting, a riveting study of how PTSD can reshape a woman in unimaginable ways.
9 notes
·
View notes