Bad Girls Don't Cry
by Chris Davidson
Bad girls are a blast. This we all know. But it's not all black underwear and fun in dad's Country Squire. Take Tura Satana home to meet the folks and watch the family china approach escape velocity. Bring Mamie, Jayne or even Mimsy to a bar, and throw more punches at ogling drunks than the St. Pauli Girl. Why do we like these wanton women? They swing. So, in this spirit of she-devil appreciation, here are the top of the heathen class, guaranteed straight-F students. Get with it. Only stay-at-homes would date a chick who wears brown leather.
ALAINA CAPRI in Good Morning...and goodbye! (1967). The classic pick-up line: "You're too much woman for one woman" was probably uttered first for Alaina, who rivals a Buick Roadmaster for sheer square footage of chassis. As Angel, she says, "I'm tired of being dirty, easy and bad," then hops in the hay with a construction worker named Stone. Angel's hubby tells her, "We've got to stop running from each other." Her reply: "I'm not running, I'm driving."
PEGGY CUMMINS in Gun Crazy (1949). Pulled together by a harmless obsession with shooting everything that moves, Annie Laurie Starr and Bart Tare kill cops and old ladies, while dressing like cowboys and dancing to the big band sound. Annie's eyes beam when her beau gets the killer instinct, and even as the cops are closing in, she's ready to blow lead down their throats. Some people you just can't teach.
SYBIL DANNING in Chained Heat (1983). A panzer tank in cut-offs, Danning is a murderous inmate who rebels against a prison staff that hires out the better-looking jailbirds as prostitutes. The carefree fun peaks with a warden who videotapes his smarmy inmate escapades ("Don't call me warden. Call me Fellini") and Sybil slapping five with Tamara Dobson (from Cleopatra Jones). One nice thing about this place, the staff cares about hygiene. Everyone takes lots of showers.
JOAN FONTAINE in Born To Be Bad (1950). Little
tart Christabel Cane gets under people's skin. But she has class,
so she's more like a tic dipped in perfume. Robert Ryan has her
number, though. "You love only one person," he says,
"and it's the love of a lifetime." But who cares about
insults? Chris has got a car full of furs to show for ruining
ereryone's lives. Her motto: Rag and you shall
receive.
PATTY McCORMACK in The Bad Seed (1956). Who says murder is wasted on the young? Rhoda hasn't hit her teens, and she's got more corpses under her belt than killers twice her age. How a little blonde in pigtails could kill is simple: genetics (her grandmother loved to murder, too). But it's crucial to realize that DNA didn't bring murderous habits only -- Rhoda's musical talent is considerable. She can trap a man in a burning basement and play the piano even above his piercing screams.
ANN SAVAGE in Detour (1945). Why some singers hit it big and others eke it out at the Break O' Dawn Club -- and pick up insulting hitchhikers named Vera -- is anyone's guess. But our crooner, Al, sure doesn't deserve this broad. Vera bosses him around like a stray dog, hogs the bathroom ("I'm first in the bathtub") and won't give him a civil answer to save her life ("Where'd you hide the butts?" he asks. "On the table, sucker"). Even in death, Vera gives no relief. She dies of natural causes. The poor slob goes up the river for her murder.
BARBARA STEELE in Black Sunday (1960). Steele plays both an ancient sorceress and her goody-goody ancestor, so she's running from goblins a lot. But as Asa the witch, Steele dresses in black robes and gets to say, "You too can learn the joy and happiness of hating." Asa eventually burns for thumbing her nose at all that is good, but Steele and her overbite returned in tons of slimy roles. As a crippled warden in Caged Heat, she dreams of not only walking again, but of stripping in front of a cheering mob.
SUSAN TYRELL in Forbidden Zone (1980). Beneath the Hercules household is a little slice of Hell, a world where bald men sing and box each other and a man-frog in a tux stands guard. This joint's queen wears heels and digs torture chambers. But mostly, she says what's on her mind: "Why does it feel so good to be so bad?" For more Tyrrell, check out Cry-Baby ("You're everything a man should be. You're young, stupid and mean"), the rockingest movie of the last 10 years.
SHELLEY WINTERS in Bloody Mama (1970). She's no Donna Reed, but Ma Barker cares about her children just the same. Her advice is wise: "I told my boys, you just rob banks and stay out of trouble." And she's always willing to protect her family, especially big dumb Herman who kills an old man during "one of his bad moments." But what's a mother to do when the cops are firing 10,000 rounds into her house? Grab a tommy gun and try to blow their heads off, that's what.
Hard to offend? Need more? Try Susan Cabot in Machine Gun Kelly, Carolyn Jones in King Creole, Yvonne Lime in Speed Crazy, or Sylvia Syms in Teenage Bad Girl. Or just round up the local toughs, plenty of fortified wine, and a delinquent drama of your own is but a stretch in reform school away.
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