In the final part of our series in which Guardian writers nominate their cinematic heroes, Ellie Violet Bramley raises a Snapple to Alabama Whitman, the lovely badass who rises above the violence of Tony Scotts True Romance
1993 was a big year. Sheffield Wednesday got to the final of the FA and the Coca Cola Cups (albeit to be pipped to the post by Arsenal on both occasions), Meatloafs I Would Do Anything For Love got to number one, and Tarantinos True Romance came out.
At the age of eight, however, I was too busy having a crush on Chris Waddle and perusing JD Sports shinpad selection down Meadowhall to even think about trying to slip into the local cinema to see this Tony Scott-directed classic; sweet and dark in almost equal measure. It was only later that, watching this bubble gum chewing, Snapple-drinking, metallic turquoise Rayban-wearing incarnation of Patricia Arquette, I was struck dumb.
Continue reading...