Stilettos, short shorts and as many lipstick applications as
witty innuendoes. The now-famous angels came back with a sequel
this summer: Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. Unless you
live without a TV or never even glance at entertainment magazines
in the supermarket, you probably already know this. The publicity
over this movie reigned over all mainstream entertainment media for
several days in June, and the movie was, indeed, a huge blockbuster
summer sensation. Just like the angels knew it would be.

What this trio of beautiful actresses might not have known is
that they were also a glamorous car wreck of an example of what
Americans believe feminism should be: women kicking butt while
wearing the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It’s a bizarre
concept, but one that icons like June Cleaver and Wonder Woman have
proliferated for years.

It’s not necessarily all that rewarding to get too heavy about
this anti-serious movie. It is extremely entertaining, simply
because it’s well made, moves quickly and has lots of pretty things
to look at. The camera work is stellar, again, and the scenery is
ever-changing–from dirt bike courses to pristine beaches to filthy
Siberian bars.

What also saves Charlie’s Angels from being trash is the
underlying campiness that utters, “These characters are unreal,
enjoy them anyway” throughout the film. This is the premise of many
action flicks, but the difference between this trio’s antics and
Arnold Schwarzenegger’s action is that the fantasy about these
women is not just their strength, but their sexuality.

The concept of three remarkably intelligent women who are
martial arts experts and also have killer wardrobes and perfect
makeup is pretty impossible. Maybe not any more impossible than the
heroes in the Terminator movies, but this movie wouldn’t succeed in
the box office if the women weren’t in mini skirts. It’s a fact
that most Americans seem tacitly happy to accept.

So, as a recommendation for those readers who are pondering
spending their summer cash flow on a ticket to see this movie, make
sure of two things:

First, a viewing of the first Angels flick before skipping down
to the megaplex would be a good litmus test. If you’re going to
love the Angels, you’ll be hooked in the first 10 minutes of flashy
intros and scantily clad superstars dangling from airplanes and
speeding cars.

Second, in order to fully enjoy the movie, don’t think too much
about its implications for women in our society. I enjoyed the
spectacle while it lasted, but thinking about it has ruined the
angels for this feminist.