Tag Archives: Abel Ferrara

Cult Film Review: Ms. 45 / Angel of Vengeance (1981) – a beautiful looking yet grisly exploitation classic!

Cult Film Review: Ms. 45 / Angel of Vengeance (1981)

Directed by Abel Ferrara

Written by Nicholas St. John

Produced by: Richard Howorth, Mary Kane

Main cast: Zoë Tamerlis (Lund), Albert Sinkys, Steve Singer, Jack Thibeau, Peter Yellen, Darlene Stuto, Helen McGara etc.

Cinematography by James Momel



In its latest 4K restoration, Ms. 45—Abel Ferrara’s 1981 revenge thriller—has never looked more electrifying, or more disturbing. A stunning new rendering of Ferrara’s gritty vision, Ms. 45 showcases New York City in all its stark, seething chaos: a place of beautiful ugliness, where the streets pulse with danger, desperation, and decay. The film, originally shot on 16mm, feels both of its time and eerily timeless, especially now in ultra-high-definition, where every grainy detail of Ferrara’s oppressive, neon-lit streets shines in a raw, unapologetic manner.

At the heart of this urban nightmare is Thana (Zoë Lund, credited as Zoë Tamerlis), a mute seamstress whose world shatters after she is brutally assaulted by a man on her way home, then attacked again in her home. Her muteness is both a powerful thematic element and an artistic choice, amplifying her trauma, her rage, and her vengeance in a way that spoken words never could. Thana’s descent into violence is stark, visceral, and unrelenting, making her a strange kind of anti-hero in this world of moral decay. Ferrara’s direction is clinical, cold, and absolutely uncompromising—each frame holds a sharp, almost surgical precision, magnifying the madness of her mind and the city itself.

What truly elevates Ms. 45 beyond its genre limitations is the electric performance of Zoë Tamerlis/Lund. At just 17 years old when the film was made, Lund’s portrayal of Thana is nothing short of revelatory. She is the beating heart of this disturbing narrative, lighting up the screen with a fierce, magnetic presence that could have easily made her a Hollywood star—had the industry been ready for her. While many of the supporting cast either cannot act or over-act, Lund’s both vulnerable and terrifying, her expression often the only indication of her character’s state of mind. Her journey from victim to vengeful force is tragic, yet always compelling.


Had Lund chosen to pursue a more conventional career, she would likely have ascended to Hollywood’s A-list—her look was captivating, her screen presence undeniable—but the indie, underground scene was where she truly thrived. In Ms. 45, she is a tragic figure of youth lost to the violence of the world around her, and in the midst of it all, she shines, her performance capturing the raw, cathartic essence of a girl pushed too far. Further, Lund’s performance peaks in one of the most iconic sequences of the film—Thana’s nun fancy-dress shootout. Drenched in blood and surrounded by chaos, she dissects the partygoers in slow-motion with a terrifying calm, her eyes wide with cold sorrow. It’s a juxtaposition of innocence and savagery, like a child playing with fire and discovering its destructive power. Kudos to the deranged soundtrack here which really ramps up Ferrara’s nightmarish vision.

Ms. 45 is NOT a film for the faint of heart or the easily offended. It’s violent, raw, and unapologetically brutal, with moments that will leave you questioning your own reaction to Thana’s vengeful spree. There is something deeply primal about the film—the way it feeds off its viewers’ discomfort, forcing them to confront Thana’s rage. It’s a film that revels in its own madness, and yet somehow, Ferrara and Lund manage to make revenge feel like an art form. It’s as stylish as it is savage, as haunting as it is exhilarating.

In conclusion, Ms. 45 is a genre-defining thriller, a masterpiece of violent cinema that has lost none of its power with time. The 4K restoration is a perfect showcase for Ferrara’s vision, and Zoë Lund’s performance is a revelation—her beauty and intensity burn through the screen, making you wonder what might have been had she chosen a different path. But for those of us lucky enough to witness this film in all its gritty glory, it’s impossible not to see her as a true underground legend. Whether or not you’re ready for it, Ms. 45 is visceral, stylish, and uncompromising cinema—one that will stay with you long after the credits roll and that evil saxophone soundtrack beat fades out.

Mark: 9 out of 11


Sky Cinema Review: A Different Man (2024) – a multi-faceted character study on inner and outer identity.

SKY CINEMA REVIEW: A DIFFERENT MAN (2024)

Directed by Aaron Schimberg

Written by Aaron Schimberg

Produced by Christine Vachon, Vanessa McDonnell & Gabriel Mayers

Main cast: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, and Adam Pearson.

Cinematography by Wyatt Garfield

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



Few films in recent years feel as startlingly original as A Different Man (2024) —and yet, paradoxically, it’s a film made almost entirely from borrowed pieces. Aaron Schimberg’s latest begins as a bracing character study, anchored by Sebastian Stan’s Edward Lemuel, a socially awkward, struggling actor whose neurofibromatosis manifests in a disfiguring facial condition. These early passages are its strongest: Edward’s halting existence, his quiet desperation, disintegrating ceiling and the unnerving, tactile authenticity of his world call to mind the seedy New York grit of Abel Ferrara and Frank Henenlotter.

But just as the viewer settles into this world, the film veers via a sci-fi twist. An experimental procedure transforms Edward’s face, and with it, the narrative mutates. Suddenly we’re in a Woody Allenesque romantic entanglement—wry, neurotic, and tinged with irony—as Edward’s new identity draws him into a triangular relationship with Renate Reinsve as Ingrid and Adam Pearson as Oswald. Oswald also has neurofibromatosis, but has a confidence and popularity that Edward envies. As Oswald usurps Edward’s place in the off-Broadway play Ingrid is directing the film’s tone teeters between comedy and cruelty.



From there, A Different Man (2024) shape-shifts yet again. The third act discards linearity for a fragmented, Charlie Kaufmanesque unraveling: episodic bursts, narrative cul-de-sacs, and surreal detours that question not just Edward’s identity but the film’s own. It’s at once exhilarating and frustrating. Schimberg seems intent on deconstructing his own story midstream, leaving us with shards of multiple films rather than one fully integrated work. The ending works artistically but could, for me, have been way more dramatic with Edward confronting Oswald for, in his neurotic mind, stealing his life and identity.

That tension—between raw originality and homage—defines A Different Man (2024). It begins with remarkable clarity and empathy, only to succumb to a kind of cinematic identity crisis. Nonetheless, the film is very funny and moving and the themes are also very thought-provoking. Further, the script, direction and performances, especially from Sebastian Stan and Adam Pearson, make the film consistently compelling. Indeed, even in its unevenness, it remains one of the most daring and distinctive works of the past few years: a film that refuses to be just one thing, even if that refusal undermines certain dramatic potential.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11