Beaver Hunt!
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
By the time it took place, I’d forgotten to think about the significance of the two criminals being women–it’s clear from the first that there will be no tearful Thelma and Louise justifications here, no earth-mother bullshit. Max McClane (Seeley, who also directs) and Marty Riggs (Kirkland) are two bad-to-the-bone broads. They’d torture and destroy the men around them even if the guy’s weren’t such assholes. Forever premenstrual, they just kind of enjoy ripping things up.
Terribly incorrect behavior, politically speaking. Don’t these ladies know that women (unlike men) must have good cause to go on a rampage? Maybe assaulted, abused, or made bulimic? Compelled by a conspiratorial male society to wax their bikini lines? Kirkland and Seeley make no such excuses. Their outlaws are so nasty, Menendez lawyer Leslie Abramson couldn’t get them an acquittal, not even for blowing away the moronic morning disc-jockey team that plagues the airwaves.
The only male bashing here takes place literally, on the stage, out in the open. And if all the men prove themselves idiots, well, Max and Marty aren’t exactly brain surgeons either.
