TANK GIRL (1995)
The future Earth is a desiccated wasteland ruled by the tyrannical Water & Power Corporation. Tank Girl and Jet Girl, rebellious outlaws, challenge the oppressive regime to reclaim the planet’s dwindling water supply.
The future Earth is a desiccated wasteland ruled by the tyrannical Water & Power Corporation. Tank Girl and Jet Girl, rebellious outlaws, challenge the oppressive regime to reclaim the planet’s dwindling water supply.
To those born after the 1990s, who saw Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) and Birds of Prey (2020) and wondered why the hell we have to wait so damn long for a kick-ass female-led action adventure: let’s journey back to the distant past of 1995 for Tank Girl.
There are clear comparisons to be drawn between the chaotic, irreverent heroines of Tank Girl and Harley Quinn. And yet, Tank Girl was created four years before Harley and got her own movie before the post-millennium boom of comic-book movies still retained the seemingly endless stigma on female-led movies after Catwoman (2004) and Elektra (2005) were flopping.
’90s comic-book movies were the Wild West and oddities like Tank Girl and Barb Wire (1996) now seem to exist as a pre-emptive middle finger to the corporate likes of Marvel Studios sitting on whether Black Widow deserved her own solo film despite being in the Avengers with her cohorts having trilogies by that point. That being said, director Rachel Talalay was recognising what anarchist potential she had when pitching and found Steven Spielberg’s company were concerned with her “thinking that we’re hip enough to do this, but we’re not” and James Cameron’s company unironically stating that “we already have a movie with a female lead”.
Tank Girl is worthwhile viewing decades later for its punk-rock, take-no-prisoners third-wave feminism. For all its faults, the film was a wrecking ball to mainstream expectations of what a female-led popcorn movie could be.
In 2033 A.D, several years after a meteor caused global droughts that transformed the Earth into a Mad Max-style wasteland, free-spirited survivor Rebecca ‘Tank Girl’ Buck (Lori Petty) angers the oppressive Water & Power corporation hoarding the planet’s H2O. Refusing to kneel to ‘The Man’, she and her best friend Jet Girl (Naomi Watts) help genetically modified kangaroo soldiers in battling the company’s villainous CEO, Kesslee (Malcolm McDowell). Yeah, that sounds like a comic book.
The high-concept pitch is, to modern eyes, Harley Quinn: Fury Road. While Max was a former cop upholding the last echo of masculine order, Rebecca’s out to prove that fun can survive an apocalypse. This is felt throughout the film as Talalay takes heed of the advice given to her by John Waters while producing Hairspray (1988) and Cry-Baby (1990): “Make the movie that you want to make”. Talalay demonstrated this attitude early with her barmy ‘conclusion’ to the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise, Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991); from teens finding themselves trapped in a video game controlled by Freddy Krueger, to the villain’s own screaming head hurtling towards audiences in stereoscopic 3D.
With that experience arose some love-hate backlash. If you wanted something similar to Wes Craven’s original, you sure didn’t find it with Talalay’s sixth Elm Street. And with Tank Girl, if you expected Mad Max, you weren’t going to get that either. As Talalay said: “I wanted to make a film that was a plus or a minus, you either get it or you don’t.” Tank Girl is a comic-book movie that gleefully shoos away any logistical questions with a curt “it’s a comic-book movie”. I certainly don’t care how Tank Girl changes her hairstyle every other scene, but some issues are slightly harder to shake.
Opening with a frenetic montage of comic-book artwork by Tank Girl co-creator Jamie Hewlett (who later designed the cartoon band Gorillaz), the sequence determines whether or not this film’s for you. Roughly 25% of the movie relies on these animated inserts to cover the $25M budgetary restrictions to help do Tank Girl justice.
The pre-Twilight (2008) production designer Catherine Hardwicke does an admirable job in building this wasteland out and the creativity shines in every set dressing. Tank Girl’s bedroom adorned with dozens of dildos was sadly scrapped, but the overall anarchy of her world wages its own war against the monolithic corporate culture of W&P for a consistently engaging visual spectacle.
Performances are just as vibrantly animated to match the backdrop and nobody stands out more than Tank Girl herself. Lori Petty nails the eponymous bad-ass chick role so effortlessly, it’s a wonder they ever considered anyone else for the role. With her hyper-energetic attitude, it never once feels like a performance, she is Tank Girl. McDowell even praised his experience shooting the film, likening it to A Clockwork Orange (1971), in which he gleefully drinks water drained fresh from his unwilling minions before exclaiming “Lovely!” It’s a prime baddie role with absolutely no excess nuance, one that he slips into as comfortably as Petty does hers.
Worth mentioning the presence of two other stars. A pre-fame Naomi Watts, well, she was one every Aussie telly with Home and Away, and gets to keep her native accent in this. If her incredibly introverted performance feels realistic, that’s because it was genuine and Petty had to get her to stop hiding behind her during all their scenes. It makes her newfound confidence all the more rewarding by the end of the story.
The other star is Ice-T, hidden underneath a ton of make-up as the lead kangaroo-man T-Saint. According to supporting star Doug Jones, Ice-T signed up thinking he was a stripper and was then confused what a Ripper was. Nevertheless, he refused to back out of a challenge and dove into the heavy prosthetics that many actors dread.
Film critic Roger Ebert’s main gripe was how non-stop everything felt, and I wouldn’t mind that at all if it’s what Tank Girl actually felt like. After introducing herself and her home in the wasteland, she messes up guard duty one night and lets a death squad take out her friends who’ve been siphoning from W&P. The first act tests her devil-may-care attitude under imprisonment, forced labour, and torture… which starts the story with the hero at her lowest point.
It’s like wanting to see Harley Quinn have fun doing crimes, but she’s literally restrained in Arkham Asylum for the first half-hour. And yes, Fury Road does actually start quite similarly, but he’s dragged along into the chaos without delay. Tank Girl tells us how cool Tank Girl is and makes us wait too long for her to start doing cool stuff.
After this initial slog, we move from wacky moment to bonkers moment, much like the issues of a comic book. Talalay resisted any interference in explaining her motivations, and I can understand that: she is Tank Girl, why would you want anything else? At the same time, the aimless drifters of Max and Harley have their respective Furiosa and Cassandra, who really drive the plot forward. Tank and Jet have the Rippers, I guess? Obviously, there’s the first act of torture, but then she’s so care-free there’s no room for even the inkling of residual trauma.
Witnessing Tank Girl parachute alongside her automated tank, spraying down bullets to Ice-T’s “Big Gun”, is a genuine joy— and not just for the zaniness but the satisfying development of them leading the revolution. A sequence to contrast that with is when her ten-year-old friend Sam (Stacy Linn Ramsower) is sold to an upper-class sex club, and Tank Girl performs a full song-and-dance routine to Cole Porter’s “Let’s Do It”. It’s unashamedly entertaining in visuals and Petty’s performance, and it fits her second-wave feminism perfectly. But she is also singing and dancing with a bunch of sex pests instead of mowing them down in her tank. It’s even more narratively frustrating as her silly antics only get Sam kidnapped again.
Those questionable elements of Tank Girl as a character start building up. Birds of Prey deepened Harley as the annoying clown-girl to someone recovering from a long stint of co-dependency, which drives her to find real friendships with other women. They call her out on her annoying traits, and refreshing rapport bolsters their communal emancipation. Mad Max, by his very moniker, had turned feral, surviving alone, and reclaims his humanity after inspiration from Furiosa’s indomitable spirit in saving other women.
In the passionate pursuit of bringing life to a character like Tank Girl, all her wanton carpe diem behaviour is put front and centre. She comes off more like Clint Eastwood in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966), dragging poor Jet Girl along like Eli Wallach.
Jet’s a woman who realises that her pacification may avoid conflict and learns to harness her own inner Tank Girl to aid in the revolution. But Tank Girl never really teaches her directly, or at least has any altruistic interest in doing so. A moment many fans adore is Jet Girl being saved from likely rape with Tank Girl interrupting and kissing her. Luckily, this man is repulsed by girl-on-girl action. And Tank Girl still ‘saves the day’ by forcing herself onto a desperately shy stranger. But it’s cool because we know Tank Girl is cool, and why wouldn’t Jet Girl want to kiss her!? Jet does save her life in return, but Tank Girl promptly throttles her demanding she help her escape.
No doubt seeing Watts and Petty kiss was a pivotal moment for young queers in the 1990s, but how did they respond to meeting the half-kangaroo Rippers that Tank Girl eagerly nudges Jet Girl to engage sexually with? A dated concept that casual hetero sex is exactly what Jet Girl needs to come out of her shell. Just because Tank Girl’s down with hooking up doesn’t mean that Jet’s fine with it too! In many scenes, Jet Girl is seen interacting with the overly horny mutants with looks of shock and disgust, and the attempts at comedy are strange when the message comes across as she’ll learn to enjoy it.
This is like an inversion to when Ally Sheedy got a makeover in The Breakfast Club (1985) and her character’s identity was suddenly altered; the solution to becoming a stronger woman is becoming exactly like Tank Girl.
There’s a tinge of guilt that this retrospective has been ‘tainted’ by a sour note. For anyone who hasn’t seen Tank Girl yet, watch the trailer to get a taste of its Adderall-pumped punk aesthetic. It’s a surprisingly gorgeous experience that isn’t hampered by criticisms when one’s being distracted by Malcolm McDowell with a holographic head deflecting tank-fired beer cans with his cyber-arm to a soundtrack compiled by Courtney Love.
Becoming a cult classic since its disastrous box-office gross of $6M, Rachel Talalay genuinely believed her outrageous female action hero was going to change things. And she did, eventually. Margot Robbie herself is currently trying to produce a reboot (she’d make a great Tank Girl, but then she did make a great Harley Quinn), and pop culture for comic-book movies has flourished into a scene for loud and proud women. With only two features on her filmography, which were both seen as disappointments, Talalay instead carved out a success in TV directing popular shows like Doctor Who, Sherlock (2010-17), and Riverdale (2017-2023). And even with all those mega fandoms, fans at cons still bring her Tank Girl items to sign.
Oh, that female-led production from Cameron’s company, it was Joan of Arc. Not the 1999 Milla Jovovich one, or the 1999 Leelee Sobieski one, I don’t believe this film ever materialised. Talalay didn’t know what to say in comparing such contrasting stories, but I think Tank Girl was our patron saint martyr for kick-ass comic women. Or maybe Talalay was, who was simply working off visions of what could be.
USA | 1995 | MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH
director: Rachel Talalay.
writers: Tedi Sarafian (based on the comic-book by Alan Martin & Jamie Hewlett).
starring: Lori Petty, Ice-T, Naomi Watts & Malcolm McDowell.