I thought this weekend I'd be doing fun things to celebrate passing the NCLEX and finishing the remodeling of the living room, like making Christmas cookies, writing out Christmas cards, and watching Black Christmas.

Instead I'm covering myself with VapoRub, forcing fluids, and wondering where I'm going to get the energy to make a pie for the Christmas party tomorrow. It may not be the worst cold I've ever had, but it's certainly one of the worst coughs I've ever had.


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So what's a sick girl to do? Exactly, sit back and relax and watch a classic Swedish movie about a woman out for revenge.

There are two versions of this film.
Thriller: A Cruel Picture (red box) and
Thriller: They Call Her One Eye (yellow box), which is the one that I have. I've seen the other version, but I got a great deal on this one. And from what I know, the biggest difference between the two is the X-rated porn inserted into the red box version.
And I want to watch ass-kickin', not random up close shots of people (not even the actors in the movie) having sex.

The movie is about Frigga, who is raped as a young girl and as a result of that, never speaks again. As Frigga grows up, she is sent to therapy in town in the hopes that it might cure her.

One fateful day while waiting for the bus to pick her up, a man in a car stops and asks if he can give her a lift into town. Of course, she never makes it to therapy because he is A BAD MAN.

Mr. BAD MAN gets her drunk and then phones a friend to come and shoot her up with heroin. They then keep her filled with heroin for a few days so they can get her good and addicted before letting her know, guess what, you're going to become a prostitute and here's a letter we're sending to your parents telling them you don't love them anymore and you're never coming home again.
Frigga tries her best to resist all of it, but all she gets for her trouble is having one of her eyes cut out. Thus....the meaning of 'they call her one eye'....[Image]

but Frigga makes the best of a bad situation by managing to find many different colored patches to match whatever outfit she has on at the time....pink to go with her bathrobe....black to go with her leather coat....you get the idea.

Eventually Frigga finds out that her parents are so despondent over her letter that her father has tried to kill himself......she returns home to find that actually, both her parents have committed suicide because they couldn't live without their daughter.

Naturally she feels really bad about that.

Naturally this is one of the first big plot holes.

I'm mystified as to how she can suddenly take a day trip away from the heroin/prostituion ring.

Frigga goes to church to cry and to ponder the tragedy of it all. Suddenly, she has an epiphany. Since Frigga doesn't speak, we're forced to wonder what it is that she now KNOWS she must do.....
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And then we find out. Frigga needs to learn to :
-do karate,
-shoot guns,
-and drive a car.

Frigga is able to pay for these lessons by doing 'extra' favors for her clients - a trick taught to her by one of her fellow prostitutes - a woman that Frigga befriends.

Frigga learns to kick and punch, shoot out the bullseye, and how to turn into the skid.
Apparently more day passes from the prostitution ring.
Eventually all her teachers tell her there is nothing more that they can show her.

The last straw for Frigga is when she discovers her friend has been murdered - and she sets out on her vengeful slow motion killing spree using all her new skills- going after johns, her pimp, and even two police officers that try to stop her. But Frigga has the most fun taking care of her pimp- which involves burial up to the neck, a rope, and a horse.

Which is also the point where I passed out - not from shock but from the kind of tired you can only become while being sick - when just a simple act like watching a movie can feel like three hours of hard labor. I have roused myself long enough to finish this post.....and then it's back to my couch, my electric blanket, and my juice.

I also want to mention that the woman gracing the top of my blog for December, Bettie Page, died this month. But she will live forever as a representative of a era long gone by.....

-Mother Firefly