A Gun for Jennifer (Todd Morris, 1997)
Travel back in time with me to the mid-nineties, where lads mags reigned supreme and feminist pop anthems were tailor made to gullible young girls by corporate fat cats, but for fellow psychotronik film heads, they might have chanced upon the mere whisper of A Gun for Jennifer (1997). Part of the New York underground film scene, Morris' film is a grimy faux-grindhouse actioner that harkens back to Abel Ferrara's early films and Jim Van Bebber's Deadbeat at Dawn (1988). A Gun for Jennifer is a punk, feminist fantasy that's far removed from the attractive doll squads you might find in a Ted V. Mikels or Roger Corman production. What we have here are the spiritual daughters of I Spit on Your Grave's dick-severing protagonist, Jennifer Hills. A Gun for Jennifer is a mean and scuzzy film that embodies the dirty New York grunge from the seventies and early eighties.
Co-written by its titular lead, Deborah Twiss, who you might recognise as the hot for teacher Mrs. Zane from Kick-Ass (2010), she managed to include her personal experiences when she worked as a dancer in a strip bar into the film. Additionally, these were followed up with her personal fantasies of beating up unruly and way too handsy patrons. One scene in particular creatively shows where to put a pool cue where it doesn't belong. Based on interviews by Twiss, much of the screenplay was written by her, other than the cop scenes which were penned by Morris. The end result is a staggeringly violent vigilante film.
Abused runaway housewife Alison (Deborah Twiss) comes to the big city of dreams and finds out everything in New York ain't always what it seems when she's assaulted by a couple of low lifes intent on raping her. She's saved by a vigilante squad of women led by their misandrist and psychopathic leader Jesse (Freida Hoops). She's forced to pull the trigger on one of her muggers and become part of the murderous crew, otherwise it's a similar fate for her. Thus, Alison adopts the name Jennifer as her new reborn incarnation and adjusts to life working as a strip bar waitress in The Widows' Den. Her extra curricular activities involve going to punk gigs where a top less band singer pulls out a prosthetic dick from her pants that she mutilates with a knife, and constantly being caught in the crossfire of her gal pals' escalating shooting sprees. The finale involves an ultra bloody shootout with some big time Jeffrey Epstein type villain and his heavies.
Revisiting this film in a post #MeToo world has brought about two interesting observations I hadn't noticed before: A Gun for Jennifer goes against the popular belief held by various prominent film critics that the vigilante subgenre is tailored towards a right wing audience; also, how crazy is it that a crude and thoroughly cartoonish indie film from the nineties contains a better grasp of female character writing than the indestructable Disney princesses who undeservedly reign today?
Despite its notoriety, A Gun for Jennifer is a relatively obscure film, but it seems like the movie gods have smiled upon your host's wish list with another accurate prediction as Deborah Twiss spilt the beans over a forthcoming release from Vinegar Syndrome (although, she was wrong about the July release date, sadly). Either way, it's more a gift than a curse, as it's one of those really sought after films that I'm thankful I still own on DVD. Cue a massive influx of horrendous attention seeking reviews by social media narcissists when the eventual rerelease does occur, however.
A Gun for Jennifer is very much a rough diamond, but essential viewing for anyone that might be interested in nineties indie film and bloody violent cinema.
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