Dir. Jack Hill
Having empowered women as lead action heroes is currently a hot-topic within film discourse. With the release of Captain Marvel, and her continuing role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it doesn't seem like the conversation surrounding her will go away, but will rather develop over time with her character. If you trawl forums and social media, how the character of Carol Danvers is discussed holds a wealth of opinion, subtext, and dog-whistles.
One of the most interesting topics to come out of the film has been the discussion surrounding the character arc of Carol Danvers. Her arc within the film has her hold extreme power, but due to memory loss and gaslighting by her male controller, she is unaware of the extent of the power, and is taught to restrain what little she believes she has. When spelt out in words the message of the film is obvious, but most specifically, the way in which this is a character arc rooted in the perspective of women in a patriarchal world has brought much discussion. Some fans, usually male, find it difficult to relate to such an arc, perhaps being used to more male-centric arcs where power is steadily gained, lost, re-gained, etc., until an eventual apotheosis of power near the end of the film/arc. In Danvers' case, her unlocking of her own power is tied to the notion of operating on her own terms, no longer pulling her punches unnecessarily, nor being restrained in development by weaker men.
Turn then, to Jack Hill's Coffy. Coffy's (Pam Grier) arc is revenge, plain and simple. Her younger sister has become addicted to heroin, and Coffy in retaliation will hunt down the drug pushers responsible. From the off, Coffy uses her femininity as an advantage, turning the specific weaknesses of men to her gain. She acts as a strung-out prostitute, desperate for a fix from Sugarman (Morris Buchanan), who'll happily take advantage of her for his own sexual gain. She is offered like a piece of meat in the back of a car, but upon returning to Sugarman's apartment Coffy allows him no pleasure, blowing his head off with a shotgun in one of the most startlingly satisfying effects in Blaxploitation history.
This opener sets the tone for the rest of the film, as Coffy infiltrates the organisations of pimps, drug dealers, and the mob. In your traditional male-centric, Charles Bronson-y crime film, the male lead would infiltrate by busting into the corrupt locale - shooting up the place, interrogating the boss, maybe saving a prostitute along the way. But in Coffy, the beauty and femininity of the lead character is used to her gain. For example, to infiltrate pimp King George's (Robert DoQui) operation, Coffy poses an an exotic Jamaican, seductively dressing in a bikini, visually using her beauty to attract the men of this seedy world.
However, as we saw in the opening, Coffy does not shy away from more traditional action-hero methods. When interrogating a drug-using associate of King George (Lisa Farringer) for information on the type of women he likes, she uses force, and shows no pity for her drug use. This is interesting considering that the instigator for Coffy's vengeance was her younger sister getting hooked on heroin. Clearly Coffy has no sympathy for drug-users, instead going straight to the source, and removing the suppliers.
Similarly, she is aggressive in the face of competition from the other prostitutes. During a cat-fight which breaks out at one of King George's parties, knowing that mob boss Arturo Vitroni (Allan Arbus) is watching, Coffy wins out, and uses aggressive tactics to her advantage. Coffy pulls down the dresses of the women she fights, almost using their femininity as sources of embarrassment. She meanwhile has prepared for any such conflict by hiding razor blades in her afro, which comes in handy as one of the women grabs her by the hair, which results in her screaming and bleeding. Coffy establishes her resourcefulness and strength as attractive qualities to Vitroni. Incidentally, Pam Grier has mentioned in interviews that putting razor blades in afros was an actual tactic of defence used by hood women, a characteristic she co-opted for the film. In this respect, Coffy stands specifically as not only a symbol of a strong female action hero, but also as one rooted in African American culture. She has triumphed in a world which discriminates against her doubly.
This extends to the object of this post, the metal wire she hides in her afro, and which she uses to retaliate against her would be killer and rapist, a henchman of Vitroni, Omar (Sid Haig). Coffy has been cast aside by Vitroni, believed to be a spy and assassin of King George, who himself has been brutally lynched by Vitroni's henchmen. There is no question that Coffy is in danger, as she is in the car of a corrupt cop, who drives her and the henchmen to an underpass for her to be killed. However, Coffy pretends to be in need of a fix and a man, which Omar gladly responds to. They inject her with drugs to make her more complaint, as Omar lays her down in the dirty trash.
However, Coffy, resourceful as ever, swapped out the drug with harmless sugar earlier in the film, faking her high the entire time. As Omar pulls his trousers down, Coffy reaches into her afro, pulls out a pointed metal wire, and repeatedly stabs Omar in the neck. As she does so, Roy Ayers' soundtrack begins the track Escape, a song which ticks along with suspense, and a sense of purpose. Omar bleeds-out, calling for help from his associates who ignore him and chase after Coffy. The strong henchman has been left to die by a resourceful woman, who uses planning, her female sexuality, and her very African American culture to her advantage. Now that's a hero!
The film doubles down by having Coffy escape, off Vitroni, and in a coup-de-grace kill the corrupt cop Brunswick (Booker Bradshaw), her former boyfriend. In a brilliant move, Coffy finds Brunswick, who at this point has left her for dead, in bed with a white woman. As soon as Coffy sees this woman, she unloads her shotgun into Brunswick's groin, killing him for good, and removing his manhood along the way. He was corrupt through and through, cheating on his own police career, cheating on her, and even cheating on her with a white woman. It's a crowd-pleasing moment for anyone who sympathises with the plight of African American women, and the films ends with Coffy walking along the beach, her righteous campaign concluded.
Coffy is a Blaxploitation film unusual for its time, by having the drug pushers be the bad guys, not the good. But why it succeeds as a hallmark of the genre, and certainly as a hallmark of action and crime cinema, is by leaning into the femininity of the lead character. Captain Marvel does the same, but is somewhat constrained by its own genre and age rating to really dive into the ways in which women are treated. Coffy on the other hand twists the genre of Blaxploitation, offering an anti-drug message from an empowered, vengeful black woman. Coffy thrives in her seedy, patriarchal world by leaning into the way women are viewed as lesser, purely sexual beings.
It's unfortunate that lead action roles for women do not lean into the femininity of their lead characters more often, as we see the positive result in Coffy, a film released 46 years prior to Captain Marvel. The conversation around lead female action heroes, if anything, seems to have regressed, and one wonders how some male fans would react to more overt delves into the femininity of film leads. If anything, as positive a collaborator Jack Hill was with his female leads, I think the answer might lie in more female directors and screenwriters, who can imbue their leads with a different approach. Regardless, 46 years on, Coffy stands as a terrific example of Blaxploitation, action cinema, and the refreshing power of a female action-hero lead.
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