In her mould-breaking Avengers role, Honor Blackman created a new kind of heroine, writes Hannah Betts.
There's something extremely pleasing about coronavirus not having seen off the mighty Honor Blackman, who died on Sunday at the age of 94. Not that there is any shame in succumbing to the virus. It's just that it feels far more appropriate for Blackman to have gone out in her own time, in her own way, karate-kicking every step.
As Cathy Gale in the cult 60s television series The Avengers, Blackman hurled the submissive 50s domestic goddess out of the kitchen window, supplanting her with a leather-clad female protagonist with brains, guts and endless, deadly legs. If there was a TV heroine who at long last reflected the more assertive role women had played during World War II, then Blackman (who starred in the series between 1962 and 1964) elegantly supplied her.
Gale was an anthropologist who had married a farmer in Africa, where she learned to hunt, fight and take care of herself. Her husband had then died and Gale had returned to London to earn a PhD in anthropology and take up a position as a museum curator, before teaming up with secret agent John Steed (memorably played by Patrick Macnee).
If reaction at the time was obsessed with the sexual liberation implied in her role — newspapers referred to the newly-minted star as a "Sex Kitten in Black Boots", "blowing out picture tubes all over England" — Blackman's lasting impact was as a poster woman for female liberation.
Gale's boasting a doctorate and a profession was quite something back in 1962. Add to this poise, insouciant bravery and enviable judo prowess and the role still felt radical 15 years on when I was watching after-school repeats as a 6-year-old women's libber starved of role models.
Looking to win wars in the playground, you could assume the part of Cathy Gale, while the boys claimed an infinite supply of superheroes. Not only would you win, you could be cool. The scenes may look dated to Gen Z viewers, but check out Blackman's moves. On more than one occasion, she managed to knock out actors playing opposite her when she didn't like the cut of their jib, including Tony Blair's future father-in-law, Tony Booth.
Honor Blackman poses for photographers during a break from the filming in London in 1969. Photo / ap
Blackman left The Avengers to take her lethal, leather-clad mystique to film, in the guise of bisexual flying ace Pussy Galore in 1964's Goldfinger. Sean Connery's Bond may have "cured" Galore of her sapphism but she was more than a match for him in terms of intelligence, wit and sexual appetite. No simpering damsel in distress, not only was the actress slightly older than Connery (as opposed to the usual Bond trope of being surrounded by nubile teens), she could hold her own both mentally and physically — and look amazing at the same time.
Add Gale and Galore together and Blackman became a proto-feminist icon. To put this in context, it was only in 1963 that Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique had been published and several years until Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch would appear in 1970. Although Blackman was rewarded by a large postbag from male admirers, she received more fan mail from women, inspired by her portrayal of strong female characters who used every weapon in their arsenal to wield power over men. One critic described Gale as a "safety valve for the rage felt by thousands of women at the fraud that appoints them the weaker sex".
Via Blackman, a template had been established for bruiser broads who might be screamingly sexy but would no longer accept a screaming sidekick role. Blackman's successor on The Avengers, Diana Rigg's Emma Peel was every bit as robust, self-assured and down with fetish-wear, while Connery's Bond went on to have mincemeat made out of him by the badass acrobat assailants Bambi and Thumper (Lola Larson and Trina Parks) in 1971's Diamonds Are Forever.
Blackman also cleared the way for Honey West — the first American TV programme to feature a female detective's name in the title. West was intended to be the US version of Cathy Gale, and producer Aaron Spelling's first choice to play the part was Blackman, whom he had loved in both her leathered incarnations. Sadly, she turned it down and the part was filled by Monroe lookalike Anne Francis.
West, referred to more than once as "the private eyeful", drove an AC Cobra convertible, boasted a pet ocelot and kept a radio hidden in her lipstick case. Her wardrobe was animal print, to match her racy apartment decor.
Even Roger Vadim's so-ghastly-it-is-almost-unwatchable Barbarella of 1968 — championed as the first female sci-fi — owed its debt to Blackman; albeit this pancake-flat non-thriller hardly lives up to its inspiration. Barbarella may be a kitsch, leotard-clad action woman but she is an other-worldly dolt compared with her predecessors, subject to thrashings and literally shooting herself in the foot.
British actor Sean Connery kisses actress Honor Blackman during a party at Pinewood Film Studios, in Iver Heath, England. Photo / AP
Still, even pouting, air-brained Barbarella proved that attitudes had changed, if not quite enough. In less than a decade, Gale's legacy had been felt on both sides of the Atlantic.
In Doctor Who, the Doctor's companions, while always comely, were also combative: ardent feminist Sarah Jane Smith, brainbox Romana, and even cavewoman Leela, in her skimpy animal skins. Charlie had his Angels, police officers dissatisfied with being relegated to traffic and office roles. The Six Million Dollar Man was rivalled by The Bionic Woman, while 1972 Miss World USA Lynda Carter's Amazonian Wonder Woman may have looked good in a bustier — but was still adept at taking out Nazis.
However, by the end of the 70s female crime fighters were no longer considered empowering if they were clad in a bikini. (The recent film Misbehaviour, which tells the true story of the 1970 Miss World competition, captures the beginnings of this change in attitude.)
During the 80s, with women in positions of authority an increasing fact rather than fantasy, realism took hold. And so we had a non-sexed up Gill Gascoigne in The Gentle Touch; Sharon Gless and Tyne Daly as New York cops in Cagney & Lacey. Even Helen Mirren's Jane Tennison in Prime Suspect and Gillian Anderson's Stella Gibson in The Fall owe something to Blackman's steel.
As for the armies of female action heroines who have punched, kicked and jumped their way into cinemas since the downfall of Harvey Weinstein, some of them have even reclaimed the catsuit — witness Scarlett Johansson's Ghost in the Shell, Brie Larson's Captain Marvel and Gal Gadot's forthcoming Wonder Woman 1984. Daisy Ridley's Star Wars heroine Rey should be grateful for her Jedi robes.
With their dogged determination and planet-sized attitude, these ball-breakers also fall into the glorious Gale mould. Let us high-kick a salute to this sensational 60s pioneer, as we bid fond farewell to her creator.
