Thriller - A Cruel Picture (Bo A. Vibenius, 1974)

Uncompromising to its very core, Thriller - A Cruel Picture (a.k.a. They Call Her One-Eye) is the one of the sweetest, most satisfying revenge movies ever created. Bursting with the kind of unpleasantness you can't even find playing at your local university crack den, Bo Arne Vibenius's tale of a young woman forcibly dragged through the salacious sludge that is Swedish society in the mid-1970s is one of the most artful depictions of feminine retribution ever to come out of Scandinavia (a region not only renowned for its herring consumption, but also its liberal attitude towards onscreen comeuppance). The film follows the mute adventures of Frigga (Christina Lindberg), a fragile woman who is still traumatized after being on the receiving end of some inappropriate lunging from a perverted relative as a child. Living on her parents' farm in the country, Frigga gets a ride into town from a slick man named Tony (Heinz Hopf). Utilizing his greasy charm, the knavish chap (with a choice motorcar) somehow convinces the dewy-eyed wallflower into having dinner with him. Obviously loving the fact that she doesn't talk, Tony escorts her to his swanky pad afterward for some alcohol-based refreshment. The first red flag for Frigga should have been the fact that her yellow dress was the exact same colour as his couch. (Free tip: Never trust anyone with brightly-coloured furniture.) But since she is unaware of this dating touchstone (also known in some circles as "Iridescent Sofa Syndrome"), she soon finds herself hooked on heroin, missing an eye, and repeatedly raped by strangers.

As you would expect, Frigga isn't too pleased by this turn of events. I mean, one day you're milking cows, and the next you're an imprisoned, drug-addicted, eye-patch-wearing prostitute being slapped around by lipstick lesbians and poked by all kinds of weird cock. In response to this unsavoury predicament, she methodically plots against her tormentors on her days off. (Yes, Frigga has days off: Tony may be a complete scumbag, but he pimps with a subtle grace.)

The nonchalant way Frigga plans her revenge was an utter delight. The scenes where she receives weapons training, karate lessons, and a course in off-road driving were peppered with an unconventional sense of whimsy. In a lesser film, these scenes would have either been accompanied by crude rock music or a Maude-era Bea Arthur eagerly eating out an apathetic sheep. But not here, the manner in which silence was employed during her education greatly increased the tension. The stylistic choice to have the violent retribution shown exclusively in slow-motion was also a brilliant touch. Sure, I've seen people shot in slow-motion before (Straw Dogs, The Killer, A Walk to Remember), but never have I seen it done with such gusto. The agony on the victims' faces as their buckshot-ridden bodies flew through the air had an almost erotic feel to it.

Though, I have to say, my favourite slow-motion sequence didn't involve gun play at all. Nope, it was when Frigga takes on two policemen in a warehouse making use of her new-found hand-to-hand combat skills. The unpretentious camera angles, the eerie music, it was like watching a ballet–you know, except with more mouth bleeding. I absolutely adored the way the saliva-infused blood slowly streamed from their respective oral cavities like a cascade of inexpensive house paint. Which, I know, is a weird thing from someone to adore. But what can I say? The blood flows from their respective gobs in such a manner, that you can't help but feel moved by it.

The image of Christina Lindberg standing in her leather trench coat with her hair blowing in the wind and a sawed-off, break-action shotgun resting by her side is the epitome of cinematic cool. The fact that her eye-patch always matched the colour her outfit was cool in its own right, but unflinching attitude Christina brought to the role is the stuff of grindhouse legend. (It's no wonder Quentin Tarantino "borrowed" Frigga's look for Kill Bill's Elle Driver.) And even though Christina has no lines in Thriller - A Cruel Picture, her face just oozes plucky determination. Which, in the long run, is the most important thing to ooze.

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