Thelma & Louise (1991)
Director: Ridley Scott
Had I seen this before: Yes, a long time ago
Having just returned from a 17-day family road trip around the Southwest, I related strongly to many aspects of this film, as you can probably imagine. Louise carefully packing her white shoes into a plastic bag before putting them in her suitcase, for example. Thelma being frustrated that her travel companion is not in the mood to do the fun thing she has her heart set on. Bickering about whose fault is is that your plans have gone off-course. Having a mood-darkening setback (the dining options at the north rim of the Grand Canyon are abysmal/your companion just escalated your situation by adding an armed robbery charge) but still rallying and singing along with the radio the next day. Feeling like some locals in the more rural areas are giving you funny looks. Being excited to finally be done with all the driving.
All I remembered about this movie before rewatching was 1) the inciting incident (Louise shooting Thelma's attacker); 2) the ending, which is probably in the top ten (five? three?) most famous movie endings of all time; and 3) the fact that Brad Pitt steals their money. "Thelma, noooooo," I wanted to yell at the screen when he appeared, as though she were inadvisably climbing the stairs in a horror movie. "Don't go in there! He literally just explained to you that he is a robber!" But also, I mean. I get it. Come on. She's spent her whole adult life with Christopher McDonald in Danny McBride-blowhard mode. Who can remember the $6700 on the nightstand when a shirtless, cowboy-hat-wearing Brad Pitt is out here waving his little hair dryer around?
The "I get it" factor is actually the secret genius of this movie, along with the indelible scenery and the cool car cruising through it. Knowing from the jump (so to speak) that these two women are going to end up determinedly taking their fate into their own hands by way of an enticing abyss sets you up as a viewer to wonder: how on earth are they going to get there in two hours? And as a fan, generally, of the "series of bad decisions and unlucky breaks" genre, I thought the movie did a pretty good job of answering that question in a satisfying way with each tightening of the screw.
At basically every turn, there is a man making their lives more difficult. The only man in this film who has my full support is the cyclist who calmly blows weed smoke into the cop car where T&L have trapped a state trooper in his own trunk. Everyone else falls somewhere on the scale from Harvey Keitel's sympathetic but paternalistic investigator (he constantly refers to them as "girls" even though Susan Sarandon is 45-dang-years-old in this movie) to the evil violent parking lot rapist to the full-on Looney Toons caricature trucker whose rig they blow up. (This scene feels off from the rest of the movie and I suspect that Ridley Scott just...wanted to blow something up.) Now, in real life, is every man who crosses a woman's path some kind of obstacle? No. Except...some days? Yes. String a few of those days together and here you are, thinking maybe the bottom of the canyon has more to offer than those dozens of men pointing guns at you.
On the heavy-to-fun scale, this tilted a little further toward heavy than I remembered, maybe just because of my age now or the current times or who knows what. But it's still very watchable, and it genuinely did evoke the feeling of the road trip we just took, give or take a handful of federal crimes.
Line I repeated quietly to myself: "Thelma, you know how I feel about Texas!"
Is it under two hours: No
In conclusion: Will we manage to find a movie set in the Southwest that doesn't involve gun violence? Remains to be seen!
Diner Style Hashbrowns from Secret Copycat Recipes
There is not a lot of time for proper meals on this particular adventure, just a few scattered snacks (a candy bar, some Twizzlers, countless mini-bottles of Wild Turkey, a 20-something Brad Pitt). But in the very first scene, Louise is at her diner job, slinging some classic-looking hash browns.
Every recipe for hash browns I've ever tried has ended up with me cooking the potatoes for significantly longer than indicated. This particular streak remains unbroken. I also believe that all recipes for potatoes should include the phrase "more salt than you think," or maybe I'll just tattoo it on my wrist or something.
Up next: Always check your radiator belt before driving through Arizona, lest you stumble into a jarringly-edited neo-noir
