Skip to main content

Streetwise and Book Smart: Avenging Angel


"One more step and I'll blow your balls into outer space."


That immortal line is delivered with extreme chutzpah by our tough-talking protagonist Angel (real name, Molly Stewart), played with a disarmingly effective nonchalance by '80s dream girl Betsy Russell, in Avenging Angel (1985). I'm always on the lookout for memorable cult classic, and with this one, I've struck exploitation gold. I don't know where this movie has been all my life, but thank goodness we finally found each other.


First, some facts. Avenging Angel, directed and co-written by Robert Vincent O'Neill (who worked in the art department on Easy Rider), is the middle installment in the Angel trilogy of films. One day I'll have to run the series, but I can't imagine anything else being quite as entertaining as this one. The plot: a former Hollywood Boulevard prostitute turned law student goes back undercover as a prostitute—but steadfastly avoids schtupping any Johns, to the chagrin of horny B-movie fans everywhere—and teams up with a ragtag crew of street urchins to track down a killer who murdered the police office that helped get her off the streets and into law school. Did you follow all that?


If you spend too much time trying to make sense of this, you'll lose your mind. As any exploitation aficionado knows, there's no need to bring logic into this equation. So a law student who used to be a hooker takes it upon herself to go undercover as if she was a police detective? Of course she does! And of course she suddenly knows how to handle various firearms—from big shotguns to a tiny pistol that she conceals in a garter belt under her extremely short skirts.

So, while it's temping in today's peak Internet film nerd era to over-intellectualize '80s exploitation fare like Avenging Angel, the movie's appeal is basic, and will ring familiar to any retro movie fan: there's just something fun about a female vigilante with a gun, out for vengeance. It's as simple as that, really.


Avenging Angel works so well largely because Russell turns in the sort of strong silent type hero role typically played by men. Sure, she's sweet and smiles a lot, but ultimately she's a badass with almost no fear of danger. She's also more than she seems. Just like the movie she's in, which is equal parts gritty street crime thriller and zany lighthearted comedy, Angel is a woman of action and a dedicated scholar. Streetwise and book smart. Characters are constantly misjudging Angel because of her glamour model-turned-street-walker appearance, but really she's a serious student of the law with a plucky can-do attitude who never gives up. A perfect example would be the scene where she's been wrongfully imprisoned and from behind bars delivers a lecture on California penal code law to the police. It's completely ridiculous and ridiculously awesome.

Angela keeps getting in over her head, but it never phases her one bit. She's determined to bring down the killers, so she suits up in her best halter tops, micro-minis, and high heels, then charges out into the streets, ready for trouble without a care in the world for her own safety, and always packing heat—even when she isn't carrying a gun, if you know what I mean.


Rory Calhoun is a riot as Kit Carson, Angel's sexagenarian partner in crime. Kit dresses like he's late for work at the rodeo, but the old geezer and our nubile heroine make for an enjoyably oddball duo. Kit lays down cover fire for Angel as she dodges bullets, tottering along on her stilettos, plus he always makes her laugh. It's actually sweet. They're fairly adorable together.

As with any cult classic that I highly recommend, Avenging Angel will be most appreciated by viewers with an open mind to the offbeat and wildly over the top charms of B-movies. For devotees of the exploitation genre, I enthusiastically say, check it out.


In that outfit, I have no idea where she hides that cannon and I don't care because Betsy Russell is very distracting and I've completely forgotten what this sentence was even about.


When it comes to kickass, take charge women in '80s B-movies, Betsy Russell reminds me a bit of Lucinda Dickey from Ninja III: The Domination. Together they might have the best '80s hair, too.


That has to chafe the upper thigh area, no? Angel makes these sorts of sacrifices, though, in the name of fashion and undercover vigilantism.


Like a scene straight out of an Old Hollywood screwball comedy. Angel and Kit are totes adorbs.


Betsy Russell spends almost the entire film in tiny little outfits and sky-high heels but geez if only they could've squeezed her into a hot nurse outfit too...oh, my. Never mind! Also, Kit's attire here is everything, isn't it?


Somebody please make a poster, a t-shirt, a coffee mug, and a bath towel out of this shot, pretty please. I will buy all of them! It's so gloriously '80s and I love it.


Part of the movie's appeal is how this oddball group of losers, cast aside by society, join forces with the uber-babe Angel to (just barely) save the day. Sure, they often charge into trouble without a solid plan, and even almost get a baby killed (spoiler: no babies were harmed in the making of this movie), but they're such a lovably wacky quartet that you can't help but root for them. It's like if the popular girl in school suddenly started hanging with the geeks from the AV Club—hilarity is sure to ensue!


This might be my favorite scene. While sexy Silk Stalkings style slow jazz blurts out over the soundtrack, Angel confidently struts into the Hall of Records and requests access to some records, in her most serious, lawyerly voice. Russell's delivery is deliciously droll, which completely works for Angel: she's a no-nonsense, straight shooter who just wants the facts, ma'am.


Cut to Angel posing on a step stool in a very short skirt, stretching to pull down some records from the tippy-top shelf. It's absolutely gratuitous and of course entirely essential to any exploitation movie worth its salt. Then she saunters over to a study room and studiously pores over the papers, jotting down notes along the way, completely oblivious to the other people in the room gawking. High-brow comedy it ain't, but it's chuckle-inducing nonetheless.


The Hall of Records scene sums up Angel and the movie pretty well: looks can be deceiving. Angel's not just a pretty face...or a pretty pair of legs...or a pretty—okay, okay, you get the point, which is that Angel is also (mostly) a smart cookie. The movie's not just a seedy thriller, but also at times a weird little comedy. Does the comedy always work? Nope, but that's part of the charm. Above all, Avenging Angel simply does what any good exploitation movie must do: it entertains.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

All I Want For Christmas: Phoebe Cates's Monologue in Gremlins

Joe Dante's 1980s classic Gremlins will always be a subversive Christmas favorite. From Spike exploding in the microwave to Mrs. Daigle's "stairlift to hell", the movie is packed with deliciously transgressive moments that turn the holly jolly season right on its ear. None are more memorable, though, than Phoebe Cates delivering her legendary "worst thing that ever happened to me on Christmas" monologue. It's a jaw-dropping, tour-de-force moment, a truly horrific story that's also one of the most darkly comic moments in Christmas movie history. Cates really shines during this scene. There's no denying just how seminal that scene of hers in Fast Times at Ridgemont High was for a generation of young people, but her speech in Gremlins is equally important and a wonderful showcase for her serious and comedic acting skills.  Here's the speech, in its entirety. No Christmas season is complete without at least one viewing ...

Blowing in the Wind: Marilyn Monroe and That Iconic White Dress

This month marks sixty-five years since one of the most iconic moments in twentieth-century popular culture: Marilyn Monroe’s angelic white dress being blown sky high by wind rushing up from a subway grate beneath her feet in the film  The Seven Year Itch . Billy Wilder shot multiple takes, while Sam Shaw snapped photo after photo for what had to be the biggest publicity stunt ever staged at the time. Marilyn wore two pairs of underwear for the shot, yet, as noted in Lois Banner's critical biography Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox  (2012), "a dark blotch of pubic hair" remained visible to the 100 male photographers and over 1,500 male spectators, all of whom crowded eagerly around the set to gawk and drool.  Due to strict 1950s movie censorship laws, photos had to be doctored to white out the offending blotch, but those in attendance saw it, over and over, shot after shot. Marilyn's husband at the time, the extremely old fashioned Joe DiMaggio, stormed off th...

It Came From the '90s: Kelly Bundy and the Alternative Family Ideal

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. Very few television series in the 1990s were as polarizing as Married...with Children . People either loved it or they loathed it. TV critics and good upstanding Catholic families like mine fell into the latter category. Soon after it debuted during my first year of junior high in 1987 (not quite the '90s, but on the brink), my parents made it clear that we would not be watching. I believe the words they used were "vulgar," "unfunny," and, one of their perennial favorites, "risque." Of course, this meant it immediately took on a prurient appeal for me. Parents can never win, honestly. Kelly Bundy—the talented Christina Applegate, who never gets enough credit for elevating the blonde airhead trope into an art form—only further piqued my interest. She was like the girls in school with the absurdly voluminous hair and ridiculously sh...

"That girl looks just like Pat Benatar"

Linda, that girl looks just like Pat Benatar. I know. Wait, there are three girls here at Ridgemont who have cultivated the Pat Benatar look. I was just a kid when Fast Times at Ridgemont High opened in 1982. Still though, even at the tender young age of seven, I knew who Pat Benatar was, because a.) her music was all over the radio and even then I recognized the utter awesomeness of her vocal talent in songs like "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", and b.) some of the older girls around town were obviously cribbing their looks—clothes, hair, makeup, strut—from Benatar's own style. Benatar was ubiquitous. So, when I see or hear vintage-era Benatar now, I think of Fast Times , but mostly I remember that ubiquity—of both the performer and her legion of young imitators. I know it's not true, but when I recollect those years I swear every older girl looked like either Benatar, Juice Newton, or Joan Jett. It's easy to forget, years later, that...

Misspent Youth: Joanne Whalley

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. One of the most famous and oft-quoted Seinfeld scenes involves Bobka and Jerry's discovery of the existence of Cinnamon Bobka. After Elaine scoffs at the notion of such a thing, even calling it a "lesser Bobka," Jerry unleashes one of the great defenses of a freshly ground spice ever delivered: People love cinnamon. It should be on tables at restaurants along with salt and pepper. Anytime anyone says, "Oh This is so good. What's in it?" The answer invariably comes back, Cinnamon. Cinnamon. Again and again.  Joanne Whalley is like Cinnamon. Yes, I just compulsively double-checked my DVD copy and it's the unrated version, thank you very much. Let me explain. You see, during the formative years of my misspent youth, if I stumbled on a movie featuring the doe-eyed, petite, beautiful English actress, invariably I'd feel like Jerry does about Cin...

Misspent Youth: Randi Brooks

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. ***** A note on the series and this site: This might be the final post in the "Misspent Youth" series - at least here. Maybe it'll eventually move with me. Oh, right, I buried the lede: I've moved, and would love for you to come visit me at my new site, The Starfire Lounge ! Moving forward, this site will likely cease to be updated, but will remain around for posterity and your continued reading pleasure. I have a few more things to post here over the coming days or weeks as a sort of "everything must go" send-off to the old girl. I also plan to write a final farewell post to my main online home for the last five years. Stay tuned and, as always, thanks for reading. ***** It's no surprise that the talented but now mostly forgotten Randi Brooks would make an appearance in the Misspent Youth series. She may not be a household name, but her resume...

Margot Kidder and the Childhood Crush That Will Never Die

"I dream about sex, flying, and being chased by Nazis." — Margot Kidder,  Rolling Stone , "The Education of Margot Kidder", 1981 ***** File that quote under, "Reasons why I love Margot Kidder." Last month, Margot hopped a one-way flight with old pal Chris Reeve off into the stars and beyond, where they could reenact their iconic moment from  Superman  (1978), for all eternity. I wrote a little about Margot, here and here , trying to explain why this particular actress meant so much to me as a kid growing up in the 1980s. I thought that would be enough. It wasn't.* Those posts were my fumbling attempts to sort out just how large an impact Margot had on my young life, and, to my present-day surprise, how much she still means to me now. Before news of her death, I hadn't thought of her in ages. I assumed the early childhood crush I harbored for my Lois Lane had dwindled and faded. Ha! I was a fool. My crush on Margot was very ...

It Came From the '90s: My Secret Crush on The Nanny

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. For six seasons in the 1990s, The Nanny made many of us laugh. At times, it could be downright hilarious . At others, well, not so much . This isn't a review of a '90s sitcom staple, though. No. This is simply an excuse to come clean about something I've kept buried deep inside for over two decades now: I had a secret crush on The Nanny herself, Fran Drescher. The unadulterated nineties-ness of this is practically blinding. And I love it. While The Nanny was sometimes quite funny, thanks largely to Drescher's spunky charisma and wholehearted commitment, the show was never considered hip. People my parents age seemed to love it, but my friends preferred, well, Friends . That smile! Those legs! That dress! It's all overloading my circuits. I watched Friends with my friends, but I also thoroughly enjoyed The Nanny , to...

"Opium Wars" by Zoe Lund

She wants there to be more of her. More space taken by her body, More decibels conquered by her voice, More time by her wakefulness, More equations by her addition. She wants more, I want less. Her blade is rusty, musty, sweaty and vain. I like it clean and sharp and dark-bright. She traffics in surplus, I bare my essentials. Her world is elastic but brittle. Mine is bony but moonlit. Hers flows, she ebbs. Mine ebbs, I flow. She dies in life, I live in death. —Zoe Lund, “Opium Wars”

Double Feature: Michelle Pfieffer and Al Pacino

Revisiting—or in a few cases, watching for the first time—and celebrating the work of Michelle Pfeiffer,  the best actress of my lifetime.* If you've been paying attention around here lately , you know that I adore Michelle Pfeiffer. She's likely my favorite actor, hands down. Al Pacino, however, also sits right there at the top of my personal pantheon. So it's no surprise that their two film collaborations are extremely special to me. They first starred together in Scarface (1983), Brian De Palma's wildly ambitious and searing critique of power, avarice, and the American Dream, as told through the rise and fall of a drug kingpin. That film belongs to Pacino, with Pfeiffer in a smaller, yet crucially important role. Eight years later, they shared the screen again in Frankie and Johnny (1991), Garry Marshall's warm, tender, and honest look at two damaged people falling in love. This time, Michelle's Frankie is the film's real focal point, with Al'...