‘Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!’: misogynistic exploitation or feminist classic?

Exploitation cinema became increasingly popular in the 1960s and 1970s, aided by the rise of grindhouse theatres, which gave these cheaply-made B-movies a widespread audience. These films typically featured extreme violence, sex, gore and nudity, much of which was gratuitous, designed with the male viewer in mind.

However, in the decades following the height of exploitation cinema’s popularity, many of these movies became cult classics. Since exploitation movies routinely contain overexaggerated acting and plotlines, cheesy dialogue and over-the-top hypersexualised female characters, many have become cornerstones of the camp cinema canon. According to Susan Sontag, “The essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration.”

One exploitation film now considered a camp cult classic is Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! by Russ Meyer, a self-confessed “breast-man” whose whole career was dedicated to making movies filled with sex, nudity and violence. While most of Meyer’s filmography can be surmised as exploitative, objectifying pieces of cinema designed to titillate – painting women as vessels for men’s satisfaction – Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! demands closer inspection.

Released in 1965, the film stars Tura Satana as the ruthless Varla, the leader of a trio of go-go dancers who spend their free time driving fast cars around the desert. While the group, also comprised of Rosie and Billie, engage in their high-speed activities, they come across a young couple, Linda and Tommy, who are quickly dominated by the three women. Varla and Tommy get into a fight, which ends with Varla stamping on his neck, leaving him for dead. Taking a kidnapped Linda with them, the women soon end up at a ranch where they plan on stealing money from the owner. Plenty of violence and sex ensue, yet there’s something in the way that the female characters command the screen, parading their sexuality and violent powers fearlessly, which has led the movie to receive retrospective labelling as a feminist classic.

However, it would be too easy to simply call Pussycat a feminist film without thorough examination. After all, it was made by Meyer, whose main concerns were, according to the man himself, “lust and profit”. Meyer certainly didn’t make the movie with feminism in mind, and there are plenty of moments within it that are decidedly unfeminist, such as the leering close-ups of the women’s bodies. Still, Pussycat has been adopted by new generations of film fans, particularly women, for good reason. Satana and her gang are given complete agency, wielding their powers over men who don’t stand a chance against them. Although the women’s busty outfits are designed to appeal to the male gaze, the men within the film are routinely emasculated or depicted negatively – they’re stupid, aggressive or sexist. 

Moreover, Satana’s presence is a delight to watch – she is bold and courageous, storming into any scene with admirable ferocity and determination. She outshines everyone she shares the screen with, presenting herself as a woman independent from men – she is more than capable of taking care of herself and getting what she wants.

B. Ruby Rich, best known for coining the term ‘New Queer Cinema’, once reflected on her changing opinion of Pussycat. She stated that when she first watched it, she thought it was nothing more than a “misogynist film that objectified women and that was really just short of soft-core porn”. However, years later, she changed her mind, suggesting that films can be “edited by history.” For Rich, Pussycat “turned into something completely different when I saw it again 15 years later in the heyday of queer culture.”

Certainly, when Pussycat is watched decades later, we can find feminist subtext that was probably never meant to be there. Meyer made his female protagonists ‘scarily sexy’, appealing to men in a masochistic way. These over-the-top campy women flip the status quo and become the oppressors of the male characters, which makes the film an entertaining and possibly even liberating watch for queer and female viewers. What’s more, it’s their femininity – the very thing that has historically been used against women – that becomes their power.

Viewed retrospectively, we can analyse Pussycat with more nuanced ideas on gender. Regardless of Meyer’s intent, the ranch becomes a microcosm of a society threatened by the emergence of a ‘new woman’. She is independent, brave, and fearless – for many men, this is terrifying. The Old Man reflects these attitudes, stating: “Women! They let ’em vote, smoke and drive—even put ’em in pants!” At the time, feminism was taking off, and the 1960s were becoming increasingly more progressive – yet not everyone was happy with these changing values. The new woman reflected an extreme in the go-go dancing trio, causing simultaneous fear and arousal in the male characters (and male viewers), much to the delight and humour of many female viewers, especially when watched today. 

While this gives the film its feminist edge, Pussycat ends by allowing Linda, the innocent-looking girl-next-door type, to escape, leaving Varla dead. Of course, feminism is not about letting murderous, violent women like Varla get away with their crimes, but by allowing Linda to become the final girl, the film suggests that powerful women are too much to handle. In this respect, Pussycat’s ending prioritises traditionalism and safety, reassuring male viewers not to worry – these powerful women can be defeated. Subsequently, Pussycat is slightly paradoxical, with most of its feminism unintentional. Still, as Rich states, films can be “edited by history” and enjoyed today as a camp classic led by powerful female characters with no desire to be anyone’s object. In fact, Satana seems to reject the male gaze that has been placed upon her, dominating every scene with complete autonomy and ruthlessness.

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