Naked Killer: better than Office Killer (sorry Goddess Cindy) and way better than Killer Klowns from Outer Space, but not nearly as entertaining as Return of the Killer Tomatoes (“They are gardeners and carpenters. They are not tomato men.”) or a rousing rendition of “Psychokiller”. Nor is it as enjoyable as Heroic Trio, the best of the supadupafly-kung-fu-fashion-lady as highly-seasoned-killer genre goes (if there is such a thing–and I think there is). But of course, when I’m looking for fashion and murder in the same place, I prefer the oh-so-rare Modesty Blaise (Whither Monica Vitti? Whither?) or the 1990s PVC-totin’ equivalent, Aeon Flux.
[Editorial query: Why do fags feel drawn to strong, deadly, wacko women? It’s like Ab Fab‘s Edina says to her gay ex-husband when he and his partner get excited at the impending arrival of Patsy’s supposedly fierce sister: “You boys are so predictable. Give you a well-dressed woman with a drug habit and you’re falling all over yourselves to get to her.” (Or something like that. I paraphrase.)]
I did, however, see a very real, very admirable woman this evening in a documentary on PBS. Edith Heap is a Londoner who worked for the Royal Air Force during WWII. She served as a “positioner,” which basically meant that she stood around a large map of the countryside listening to Air Force radio and moving little markers about to denote planes’ positions in the sky. One day during a battle skirmish, she heard her finance shot down. There were no screams from his cockpit or anything, just another pilot describing the plane plummeting toward the ground. Without knowing the plane’s call letters or anything, she knew it was him–just knew.
When the modern-day Edith spoke about that feeling of intuition and the mourning she went through, even though the ordeal took place more than 50 years ago she quickly choked with tears. Couldn’t speak. And she was furious at herself for getting so worked up about it. Such a strong, common sensical woman. She reminded me of my grandmother, a farm-running, gun-toting, fish hook-baiting woman whom I miss very much. If I ever find myself in such a trying situation, I hope I’ve got the chutzpah to pull through it level-headed.
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