When it comes to films about female empowerment, one of the first that often comes to mind is Thelma & Louise (1991). To a certain extent, I get it. The title characters had lived a life of being taken advantage of by men and decided to fight back against that treatment. Toxic masculinity has been a plague upon humanity since the dawn of time, and sadly there seem to be no signs of it stopping. As a Catholic, though, I know there are other ways of combatting the patriarchy, even if they appear to be limp-wristed responses. No matter how many so-called Christians use the Bible to justify men dominating women, God did not create unequal sexes. Yet, when we see this terrible behavior, the answer is not to commit a string of crimes. Sin can never help sin, and, not to completely spoil the ending, we see this play out in a tragic way.

That tragic story of Thelma & Louise begins in Arkansas, where Louise Sawyer (Susan Sarandon), a waitress, plans a weekend fishing trip with her best friend, Thelma Dickinson (Geena Davis). Thelma is married to Darryl Dickinson (Christopher McDonald), a controlling carpet salesman who treats her more like a child than a wife, so she leaves without asking his permission and brings along a handgun for protection. Louise has her own complicated relationship with musician Jimmy Lennox (Michael Madsen), but the women are initially interested only in escaping ordinary life for a couple of days. Their plans collapse at a roadside bar when Thelma gets drunk and dances with Harlan Puckett (Timothy Carhart). Outside, Harlan attempts to rape her, stopping only when Louise appears with Thelma’s gun. The immediate danger is over, but Harlan responds with obscene insults and boasts about what he should have done. Enraged, Louise shoots him dead. Thelma wants to go to the police, but Louise fears that witnesses saw Thelma drinking and flirting with Harlan and that no one will believe their account. Her reaction is also connected to something that happened to her years earlier in Texas, strongly implying that she had also been raped. Instead of surrendering, Louise decides they should flee to Mexico, beginning the series of terrible choices. She asks Jimmy to send her $6,700 from her savings and insists on avoiding Texas despite its being the easiest route south. Meanwhile, Arkansas State Police investigator Hal Slocumb (Harvey Keitel) begins tracking them and gradually realizes that the killing was not the work of two hardened criminals. On the road, Thelma meets charming hitchhiker J.D. (Brad Pitt), and after considerable pleading, persuades Louise to give him a ride. Jimmy unexpectedly delivers Louise’s money in person, hoping to understand what is happening and even proposing marriage. Louise loves him but refuses to marry under such desperate circumstances. Thelma, meanwhile, spends the night with J.D., learns that he is an armed robber, and listens as he demonstrates the speech he uses during holdups. The encounter gives Thelma a confidence she has rarely experienced, but J.D. repays her trust by stealing Louise’s money. Louise collapses when she discovers the loss, and Thelma decides it is her turn to take charge. Using J.D.’s technique, she robs a convenience store and escapes with enough cash to continue their flight. It is empowering in the narrowest possible sense, but Catholicism does not condone this brand of liberation. Police obtain surveillance footage of the robbery, while Hal questions J.D. after he is captured and continues trying to persuade the women to surrender. Thelma calls Darryl and immediately realizes something is wrong when her habitually obnoxious husband suddenly behaves pleasantly, alerting Louise that police are listening. Louise speaks with Hal, who treats her sympathetically and urges her to trust him, but she refuses to turn herself in. As the women drive farther west, Thelma becomes increasingly exhilarated by a freedom she never experienced in her marriage, while Louise grows more burdened by what they have done. Thelma asks whether Louise was raped in Texas, but Louise refuses to discuss it. When a state trooper stops them for speeding, Thelma holds him at gunpoint, takes his weapon, and locks him in the trunk of his patrol car. Louise begins wondering whether she made a catastrophic mistake by not going to the police after Harlan’s death, but Thelma insists that Louise saved her and says she wishes she had killed Harlan herself. After another call with Hal lasts long enough for authorities to trace them to Arizona, Thelma tells Louise that she has crossed a line and that there is no escape. Louise agrees. They later encounter a gasoline tanker driver (Marco St. John) who has repeatedly harassed them with obscene gestures and remarks. The women lure him to a stop and demand an apology. When he refuses, they shoot holes in his tanker and finally blow it up, leaving him stranded as they drive away laughing. By now their rebellion against men who mistreat women has become inseparable from criminal retaliation, which is precisely the problem with answering sin by multiplying it. Police close in as Thelma and Louise race through the desert, eventually forcing their Thunderbird to a stop at the edge of the Grand Canyon. Officers surround them with weapons while Hal rushes forward, still hoping to prevent bloodshed. Thelma looks at Louise and says she does not want to be captured. Instead, she wants Louise to keep going. Louise understands exactly what she means. They kiss, clasp hands, and Louise accelerates toward the canyon while Hal runs desperately after them. The Thunderbird sails over the edge, and the image freezes before the car falls from view and the end credits roll.

There are likely some who believe Thelma and Louise could have survived the fall from the canyon edge into the Colorado River below. Again, I understand the desire to think that possible, and to be fair, the film concludes before we see their car slam into the water. Who knows? It would have taken a miracle, something these women hoped for a number of times. What is interesting about that idea is that we rarely see the divine intervention that actually happens. Instead, we get fixated on that one thing for which we ask God in a given moment. There is an example of this in the film. When the two are pulled over, Thelma begins praying that the traffic stop does not happen. Most of the time, officers of the law are able to handle a situation like this, regardless of the gender of the potential perpetrators. As such, not to give them a pass for essentially assaulting a cop, they should be thankful that they got one inept enough to allow himself to be locked in the trunk of his own squad car. At the very least, they are apologetic as they force him to get into the boot. Nonetheless, Thelma had the right notion from the start. Their first move after shooting Harlan should have been to go to the police. What arguably makes this more tragic is their belief that nobody would buy their story as to what led to Harlan’s death because they are women. That is a problem with society, not them. Still, this is not a justification for murder. What everyone forgets in these situations is that God sees us. He knows when we have been wronged, and if we practice what we confess, we will throw ourselves on His mercy. Bigger miracles are possible that way, even bigger than surviving driving your car off a cliff.

That moment when Thelma and Louise hit the gas and go over the edge is one of the more iconic cinematic moments of the past fifty years in Hollywood. The pair are meant to be heroic, but I see them as victims. Because of this, I wish they had made better choices, and that you would choose a different movie.