My dad was visiting London for a few days, and thought hey, why not catch a show? When in London and all. The choice? Chicago. Because of the music? The highkicks? The singing along to ‘he had it comin’? Nope. Lynda Carter was Momma Morton. The Lynda Carter. On stage. Live. WONDER WOMAN. I parted with my cash quicker than a hardened hustler on his latest get-rich-quick scheme.
As I type this, my collection of Wonder Woman statues command my windowsill. And yes, one of them is a limited edition Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman statue. I have Wonder Woman paintings on my landings. Her comic books line my shelves. And when I stumble out of Zumba class into the pitchblack that is the rec centre’s parking lot, it is my Lego Diana Prince who lights the way.
Why Wonder Woman? Why not Scarlet Witch, say? Or Selina Kyle (I am a fan, don't get me wrong)? I don't know. I can't pinpoint exactly. Maybe it's nostalgia. When I saw the trailer for Patty Jenkin's Wonder Woman, I got gooseflesh. Maybe it's because there's so little in the way of female superheroes who define hope.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment since the 70s,” I told the chap behind the counter as he handed over my popcorn.
“Shooo-eeee. Long time. I don’t even think my mother had even thought of me yet,” said Nu Metro’s finest. “Is it like a science fiction movie?”
“It’s a superhero movie,” I replied, hesitant. “It’s THE superhero movie,” I added a second later. He laughed, and asked me to type my pin in again.
It has been a long time. It’s been a very long time. And finally, the Wonder Woman I’ve immortalised for so long since doing the whoosh in front of the TV set (to change into WW, of course), has arrived on the big screen. Well, not the big big screen - we were in cinema four.
AND IT WAS EVERY KIND OF AWESOME.
Where to start? First up, Robin Wright needs her own movie series with her as a ninja assassin/warrior goddess/Amazon war heroine. She’s up there with Grace Jones’s Conan the Destroyer for simply awesome fearsome feisty fabulousness. More please. More.
And then there’s Diana, herself. When she steps into that first battle scene, full regalia on, sword and shield in hand, only one thought ran through my mind, EVERY GIRL ON THE PLANET NEEDS TO WATCH THIS MOVIE. Every. Single. One.
Diana is fierce. She is awesome. And she stands her guard, holds her power, and is absolutely focused on her purpose. She does not kowtow, simper, flatter, or use her feminine wiles. She meets soft-soaping with lingual dexterity, indifference with passion, and dismissiveness with defiance. She is truly wonderous.
I fell in love all over again with a hero whose values and poised femaleness were assets, who was a woman not a girl, and who demonstrated that compassion and care did not make women weak, not at all.
The movie itself is so much better than I could have imagined (it’s only really bum note is when it lapses into standard superheroism). It’s a war story, a love story, an origins story. It’s the first female superhero film. And it spoke directly to my heart.
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