Since its original release in 1991, Thelma & Louise has become a classic and a frequently revisited and referenced one at that. A shorthand for ‘feminist film’, ‘film about women’, ‘female friendship’, ‘women who don’t need men’ and more, it is also something of an oddity in the career of Ridley Scott, and a major entry in the road movie genre. It remains a powerful and engaging film, offering detailed characters, stunning visuals, a truly iconic ending and messages that continue to resonate more than thirty years after its release.
As a road movie, Thelma & Louise overtly references the western genre that preceded it. This cinematic legacy is apparent from the title sequence, a long take that begins in monochrome, then steadily increases in colour as the camera moves over vast fields before settling on a rocky mesa, where the light fades to etch out the landscape in stark detail. This director-approved 4K transfer showcases the work of Scott as well as director of photography Adrian Biddle, as lustrous visuals populate the film as the vast sweeps of Utah and Colorado stand in for the story locations of Arkansas, Oklahoma and Arizona. Cliched as it is, the landscape is as much a character as the two eponymous women, their place within these spaces a marked contrast to their previously constrained lives.
These constraints are evident from the start, as we are introduced to Louise (Susan Sarandon) in that most harried and demanding of roles, a waitress, and Thelma (Geena Davis) in the role of a housewife so neglected yet controlled by her utterly worthless husband Darryl (Christopher McDonald) that a viewer may well call for her to kick him out rather than taking a trip. Her road trip with Louise is meant to be all about having fun, but before long they encounter male entitlement, things get violent, and they resolve to go on the run. State police investigator Hal Slocumb (Harvey Keitel) is the dogged but sympathetic detective who pursues them, Louise’s boyfriend Jimmy (Michael Madsen) is their one source of support, and handsome drifter J.D. (Brad Pitt) provides benefits and problems.
In the lead roles, Davis and Sarandon dominate the screen through their expression of their characters’ development. From mousy and timid, Thelma becomes feisty and joyously reckless, a spark appearing in her eyes that sunglasses cannot dim. Louise is forthright and assertive, but when things seem hopeless, she does fall apart, her physicality crumpling. Keitel is solid throughout, and Madsen adds compassionate layers to what could have been a one-dimensional figure. McDonald is a hoot as the pitifully entitled little man who thinks of himself as big. And in Pitt, it is easy to see the qualities that subsequently made him a star.
It is perhaps notable that the central two are the only prominent female characters in the film, making these women narratively, thematically and at times literally surrounded by men, except when they are out in the desert. This indicates the film’s connection to a common theme in the western, continued in the road movie – the tension between wilderness and civilisation. But the conflict here is more nuanced and subtle, as Callie Khouri’s Oscar-winning script does more than present the women as wild and untamed, breaking away from the civilising authority of men. Rather, the clash is between restriction and freedom, that manifests mainly through the battle of the sexes, but also in other ways. The landscapes add to this conceit, as the men are largely associated with interiors including motels, bars and police stations as well as the homes of Darryl and Jimmy, whereas the women are consistently associated with the great outdoors and magnificent vistas. Costumes add to this, as even at the edge of the Grand Canyon, Hal and fellow detective Max (Stephen Tobowlowsky) look ludicrously out of place in their suits while Thelma and Louise’s cut-off denim complements their dust-stained faces. These modern cowgirls are as at home in this landscape as John Wayne. Sequences in Monument Valley are worthy of John Ford. Other western echoes include prominent hats, shootout moments and something of a showdown. Hans Zimmer’s score is at times reminiscent of Ennio Morricone, and the women’s goal to reach Mexico very much ties in with outlaws on the run.
However, in the midst of this defiant pursuit of freedom, as well as the power of friendship and loyalty, there is a deep melancholia and even hopelessness. The march of modernity is apparent as Thelma and Louise travel in a 1966 Thunderbird convertible, while the police pursue them in more modern vehicles and, in the film’s celebrated climax, a helicopter. Scott delivers an assured and measured pace, less deliberate than his earlier Alien and Blade Runner and at times akin to the awe-inspiring grandeur of Gladiator. Stylistically, it is a film that embraces the central conceit of movement and yearning for freedom, while always acknowledging the irresistible forces of law and convention. Like the westerns it references, Thelma & Louise operates on a mythic level, shot through with emotional and existential tension, and it is perhaps this mythic quality that has helped the film maintain its iconic status in the careers of all involved, and within American cinema.
The extras for this 4K / Blu-Ray Criterion Collection release are largely from previous releases. There are two commentaries, the first with Ridley Scott and recorded in 1996. Scott delivers an erudite and insightful one-person discussion, recounting himself and writer Callie Khouri negotiating the tensions between the film’s themes and its need to be commercial, which includes giving its audience a good time. From the perspective of film composition, Scott’s insights are fascinating, as he describes the ‘proscenium’ of the screen that he, as director, must create. He also explains the production process of filmmaking that includes the script being passed amongst different people, all of whom add their contributions before it comes back to the director. He cites his references such as photography books that inspired images in the film of an old man and a pair of old women, all of whom he describes as presenting sad possible futures for the protagonists. Scott is also lively as he mentions that Christopher MacDonald making him laugh a lot, and during the final car chase his ‘Wow!’ when two cars collide underscores the impact of the sequence.
Like the westerns it references, Thelma & Louise operates on a mythic level, shot through with emotional and existential tension, and it is perhaps this mythic quality that has helped the film maintain its iconic status in the careers of all involved, and within American cinema.
The second commentary features Callie Khouri along with stars Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis, recorded in 2001. The three women are warm and amused in their recollections of the production, such as their delight over the fortuitous casting of Brad Pitt and the aspects that confirm this is a ‘Ridley Scott film’. Anecdotes include the need for them to talk loudly during coverage shots for a sequence that involved a train when there was no train present, and that many scenes could have simply been voiceover with sun-drenched shots. Sarandon highlights her amusement at the inclusion of an actual childhood picture of herself, and also the focus of the cast and crew on shooting at the time, unaware of the sociological impact that the film would go on to have. Khouri describes the film as freeing her from her insecurity, and the great fortune of the film working out the way it did.
Also from 2001 is a making of documentary, Thelma & Louise: The Final Journey, that includes contributions from Scott and Khouri, Sarandon and Davis, Pitt and McDonald, as well as Michael Madsen, Stephen Tobolowsky, Jason Beghe, producer Mimi Polk Gitlin and composer Hans Zimmer. The different stages of the film from conception to production are covered, with some interesting if not often surprising aspects.
Other extras include trailer and TV spots, and an Original Theatrical Featurette from the time of release where Scott, Davis and Sarandon provide fairly typical platitudes. There is also a music video ‘Part of Me, Part of You’ by Glenn Frey, which has unfortunately not been digitally remastered and looks like poor video footage. The package also offers extended and deleted scenes including Second Motel, Thelma and JD, Talkin’ ‘Bout Darryl, Human Behavior, Fear of God and more.
It is something of a shame that there is little recent material, considering the three decades since the film’s original release. What is new are a couple of interviews, one with Callie Khouri on the writing of Thelma & Louise. Khouri is honest and frank, and her story of getting the script out is inspiring for any would-be screenwriter. She describes the initial premise, the development of her ideas and that she woke up to write scenes in the middle of the night. She comments on her history growing up in Kentucky where bad events took place but were covered by smiles, and the prevalence of assumptions being made about women without supporting information. She also mentions the importance of film noir to her because of the female characters, and her discussions with costume designer Elizabeth McBride. Music is a recurring feature in the film, and Khouri recounts the playlist that she played to Scott during production as well as her experiences of driving through Monument Valley at night, where she found the landscape to be like a dreamworld. Depressingly but unsurprisingly, critical responses to the film included misogynistic rejection, which Khouri states she largely ignored. What meant more to her were the joyous audience responses, not least because those response are perhaps revealing about American attitudes towards violence and revenge. She also points out a distinct lack of progress in terms of gender relations as the film remains relevant rather than dated.
The other new interview is with Ridley Scott, conducted by film critic Scott Foundas. Scott discusses his childhood that introduced him to America through films and takes Foundas and the viewer through his early career as a documentary assistant, later an art director and then director of TV pieces at the BBC. Scott comes across as a lively curmudgeon, straight talking and direct. He explains his process of helping the writer to realise their perspective, and the production company Scott Free that he set up to develop projects so that he would always have something on the go. For aspiring filmmakers, Scott offers valuable insights such as the basics of simple communication that he learned from advertising, a point demonstrated in his commercial for Guinness, ‘Ploughman’.
Taking things back again, the edition also includes a piece of the director’s history, Scott’s early short film Boy And Bicycle. Funded by the Experimental Film Fund and starring the director’s brother Tony Scott, with music by John Barry (who is the subject of a great anecdote in the interview), this early piece uses extensive voiceover to give the impression of rapid movement through the urban environment. Scott repeatedly uses point-of-view shots that place the viewer in the boy’s position, and also includes low angled shots from the spokes of the bike, as well as continued tracking shots to express progress, a foreshadowing perhaps of the vehicular motion in Thelma & Louise. Through its brevity and simplicity, Boy And Bicycle expresses tension between what is expected and what is desired, juxtaposing wide shots of the sea that express freedom to close-ups of the boy’s face. Sudden moments of threat including a guard dog and inserts of menacing faces disrupt the harmony of the boy’s day, that harmony expressed through some truly beautiful shots of the sun reflected on sands washed by the tide as well as the boy touching the water. While the voiceover is perhaps excessive, this is a charming and at times haunting portrait of a captured moment.
Further material with Scott and Foundas focuses on the storyboards of the final chase sequence in the movie, including side-by-side comparison of early and later shots as well as the storyboards themselves. Scott makes many references to geometry, as well as the mathematics of the jump that closes the film. One of the deleted scenes is an alternative ending with commentary, an ending that Scott describes as more of ‘a downer’. This inclusion is typical of the extras which pay extensive attention to the ending. Scott and Khouri discuss the potential variations of the ending in their respective interviews and commentaries, with Khouri relieved that her emotional ending got to the screen, as it helped make the film remarkable. This attention to the finale is fitting, as the final scene remains one of the most iconic endings and indeed moments in cinema history. For film students, critics and fans alike, this Criterion Collection edition offers multiple insights into this classic, and remains essential viewing for all genders.
Thelma & Louise is out now on Criterion Collection UK Blu-Ray
