Quentin Tarantino's fixation with Pam Grier, the star of Coffy, resulted in him casting her as the lead in his 1997 movie Jackie Brown; QT's worship of the actress really comes as no surprise—she's a B-movie nerd's wet dream come true, a foxy, feisty, take-no-crap bad-ass mama with a body to die for. Grier's unforgettable performance, along with no-nonsense direction from Jack Hill and an excellent supporting cast (including Hill regular Sid Haig) ensure that Coffy is not only one of the best blaxploitation films ever, but also one of the best exploitation films of any type, period.
The film combines all the trappings one expects from a pimped-out early 70s revenge thriller aimed primarily at a black audience—big afros (so handy for hiding weapons in), cool music, loud suits, wide ties, flares, pimps, hos, and drug dealers—along with the regular gratuitous violence and nudity one would hope to find in a standard low-budget grindhouse style flick of the era. In Coffy, every woman loses her top and all the bad guys meet suitably nasty fates (gruesome deaths including being dragged behind a car until a bloody pulp and blasted in the balls by a shotgun!); all this to the sound of a funky waka-waka guitar riff.
Something for everyone, then.
The film combines all the trappings one expects from a pimped-out early 70s revenge thriller aimed primarily at a black audience—big afros (so handy for hiding weapons in), cool music, loud suits, wide ties, flares, pimps, hos, and drug dealers—along with the regular gratuitous violence and nudity one would hope to find in a standard low-budget grindhouse style flick of the era. In Coffy, every woman loses her top and all the bad guys meet suitably nasty fates (gruesome deaths including being dragged behind a car until a bloody pulp and blasted in the balls by a shotgun!); all this to the sound of a funky waka-waka guitar riff.
Something for everyone, then.