Simultaneously with the beginning of the school year, the “Daughter of the Yakuza” by Sergei Bodrov and Guka Omarova, an action comedy about one amazing schoolgirl, is released. Yuriko is ten years old and Japanese. But most importantly, she is independent, brave and resourceful.
The point, apparently, is in the genes: her grandfather is the main gangster in Japan. And then one day the grandfather decides to send his beloved granddaughter to Italy. Flying over the south of Russia, the plane will make an emergency landing, the bodyguards will evaporate somewhere. And Yuriko will be left alone. Lonely, but not helpless – her courage and ability to make extraordinary decisions are with her. And also Lekha, a local kid (in both senses), to whom Yuriko, by the will of fate and thanks to her remarkable will, saves her life. And now Lech, according to the law of samurai and yakuza, is devoted to her forever. And together they, as it turns out, are a force. But here’s what’s interesting. They are among our favorite movie heroes – these same 10-12-year-old girls, demonstrating determination, ingenuity, courage, tenderness, generosity. They are capable of deceit, intrigue and even murder. In different years, in films of different genres, they became the engine of events and the focus of the most dramatic and most lyrical human traits. On the next page – a small chart of this kind of movie heroines.
Svetlana Krivtsova, existential psychotherapist:
Why are there so many of these heroines and why are the people of cinema so fond of them, and why are we following them? But after all, serious metamorphoses take place with the personality and in the personality from 10 to 12 years old. In spiritual life, a new theme appears – awareness of one’s own identity. From the child’s merging with the world, dissolving in it, the child proceeds to the search for a heroic way of self-identification. He does not romanticize, but rather glorifies the world – he lives in a system of absolute – heroic – values. And as a result, he comes to a feeling of strength and uniqueness of his “I”. “There has never been someone like me” – this is how it sounds in an adult language.
And in children’s minds it translates into openness to experience. The age of “10–12” is characterized by the search for one’s boundaries, a deep experience of one’s own “centrality”, self-confidence and, as a result, absolute fearlessness, readiness for confrontation with the whole world, because “there is no other like me.” Very soon, the protective dome of childhood will collapse and a person will become a teenager – open to all the winds of life. In the meantime – the pinnacle of childhood … and its end. Somewhere deep inside us, already adults, lives the memory of a heady sense of our own uniqueness and, perhaps, heroism. Hence, these girls in the movies – so vulnerable and desperate.
And so innocent: male directors see purity in girls. And they can be understood.
1960
Zazi from Louis Malle’s absurdist comedy Zazi in the Metro is a mockery of an energetic and unspoiled being over the unreasonable world of adults. Zazie comes from the provinces to Paris with her mother, who has a date there, with one dream – to ride the subway. But the subway is closed due to a strike, and Zazi finds himself in the thick of the local enfant-terribly, like his own uncle, a lout, working as a ballerina in a gay cabaret (and this is Philippe Noiret, mind you). And here is the finale of the film – to the mother’s question before the train home: “How did you spend your time?” – the boy-girl sadly replies: “I got old.”
1976
Carrie from Brian De Palma’s horror “Carrie” – fury and revenge on the world. The world in the form of classmates who bully her, a fanatical mother who suppresses her piety, and a society that does not tolerate others. She is capable of telekinesis, and her anger ignites enemies. Behind her fragile shoulder stand all the gentle “horror girls” – from “The Exorcist” to “Calls” and “Child of Darkness”.
1983
Lena from Rolan Bykov’s psychological drama Scarecrow is self-sacrifice and loss of innocence in the highest sense. She will show devotion, and she will be betrayed, she is sincere and noble, but that is why she is vulnerable. Soviet cinema has always seen in growing up an exclusively moral side – the loss of integrity through the betrayal of those who believed. The same drama is experienced, for example, by Tanya from the lyrical film story by Alexander Mitta “They call, open the door” (1965).
1994
Matilda from Luc Besson’s psychological thriller “Leon” – the fearlessness and resourcefulness of the weak in the face of the pressure of the strong. In a situation from which there is no way out, in a world where there is no place for attachment, she finds a loophole for love and solidarity. Matilda is pure femininity, guarding the hearth and the future despite the present.
2001
Chihiro from Hayao Miyazaki’s philosophical anime Spirited Away (2001) is a protest against philistinism. Together with her parents, she moves to the city, which turns out to be a swamp of calm and order. Parents immediately began to eat their fill – in the film they literally pounced on the food placed in a strange city, but we understand that they satisfy bourgeois appetites. So they turned into … pigs. And the brave 10-year-old Chihiro will have to disenchant them and deal with all the ghosts and false values of the enchanted kingdom.
2007
Briony from Joe Wright’s drama “Atonement” – the danger of purity, the nonsense of uncompromisingness, the thoughtlessness of romanticism. A young writer and aristocrat, she saw a non-existent intrigue behind the romance of her sister and butler’s son, which launched the flywheel of tragic events.