Marguerite DeLain | Through the Shattered Lens

I, for one, am tired of the stereotype that women cannot drive.

I’m a woman and I can tell you right now that I am an above average driver. I’ve only had one major accident. Admittedly, I did smash into a parked car but it was raining and I really couldn’t see that well because I was driving convertible and the window was fogged up. Plus, whoever parked that car must have done a bad job and left it sitting out in the middle of the street. For the record, my convertible flipped over on impact so the parked car did far more damage than I did.

Other than that, I usually manage to stop in time for red lights. I’ve only driven through a few stop signs and that was just because I didn’t notice them. I’ve very rarely been given a speeding ticket. Instead, the police have always been very polite about just giving me a warning. And yes, it is true that I have trouble with curbs and turns and going in reverse and all that but I’ve seen plenty of men do the same thing.

The statistics show that, while women are involved in more accidents, the accidents are more likely to be fatal if a man is driving. Men are also more prone to get upset and pull a gun during a road rage incident whereas women just give other drivers the finger. Women are not inherently bad or dangerous drivers. The one exception, at least down here in Texas, are middle-aged women who drive SUVs with faded Beto stickers. You really don’t want to get stuck behind one of them in traffic.

I found myself thinking about the misogyny behind the “women-are-bad-drivers” stereotype as I watched 1979’s Death Car On The Freeway. Death Car On The Freeway features a madman who is so sick of women driving in Los Angeles that he starts using his Dodge van to cause them to have accidents. We don’t actually see his face or really learn much about him. What we do see are his black-gloved hands on his steering wheel, which is a nifty homage to the giallo genre. (Giallo killers have a thing for black gloves.) Whenever the driver does try to force a woman into a fatal accident, he pops in an 8-track of hyperactive fiddle music. The fiddle has never sounded more menacing than it does in Death Car On The Freeway. It’s almost like prog rock fiddling. Imagine a country western fiddler who has just done a mountain of cocaine and you’ll get a feeling for this guy’s taste in music.

News reporter Shelley Hack thinks that the public has the right to know that there’s a man causing women to crash their cars. Her ex-husband, played to smarmy perfection by George Hamilton, thinks that Shelley should quit her current job and come work with him. Meanwhile, police inspector Peter Graves is concerned that the media going to start a panic and make it more difficult for him to track down the “Freeway Fiddler.” (One gets the feeling that Graves feels this entire mess could have been avoided if women had never been allowed to drive in the first place.) At one point, Hack meets with a defensive driver instructor and he’s played by the film’s director, Hal Needham.

Oh, how I love this film! Seriously, it’s got car chases, car crashes, 70s outfits, George Hamilton, Peter Graves, and a genuinely frightening villain. This is one of those films where you might be tempted to be dismissive. Folks like Dinah Shore, Sid Haig, and Abe Vigoda show up in small roles, reminding you that this really is a 70s made-for-TV movie. But then, that fiddling explodes on the soundtrack, that van starts tailgating someone, and Death Car On The Freeway suddenly becomes a cinematic nightmare. It’s not a surprise that Hal Needham was able to stage some impressive driving stunts in Death Car On The Freeway. That was Hal Needham’s thing. But Needham also manages to craft a compelling and, at times, genuinely frightening film. Anyone who has ever glanced into their rearview mirror and suddenly realized that another vehicle is following them will be able to relate to the fear of the Fiddler’s victims.

This is a great movie and a reminder that women are not the most dangerous drivers on the streets. Unless, of course, they’re driving an SUV with a faded Beto sticker….

Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sundays, I will be reviewing the made-for-television movies that used to be a primetime mainstay. Today’s film is 1976’s Dawn: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway! It can be viewed on YouTube!

Dawn Wetherby (Eve Plumb) is fifteen years old. She’s naive. She’s innocent. She’s …. well, let’s just be honest and admit that she’s not particularly bright. Sick of being embarrassed by her alcoholic mom (Lynn Carlin), Dawn decides to hop on a bus and travel to Hollywood. Maybe she can make a new life for herself in California.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for Dawn to discover that Los Angeles is not a city where dreams magically come true. It’s a tough and harsh town and it’s not like Dawn has any money or any particular skills. When she tries to get a job, she’s told that she’s too young. When she tries to rent a room, she’s told that ten dollars is not enough to cover two weeks rent. When she gives a dollar to a boy who says that he needs it, he responds by mugging her for the rest of her cash. A prostitute named Frankie Lee (Marguerite DeLain) takes some sympathy on Dawn and tells her to call if she ever wants to make some money.

Eventually, a nasty cough leads to Dawn going to the free clinic. That’s where she meets Alexander (Leigh McCloskey). Alexander is a teen runaway, just like Dawn. However, Alexander also can somehow afford an apartment and food to eat. Alexander invites Dawn to live with him and Dawn, realizing she has no where else to go, agrees. Alexander offers to look after her but, after Dawn discovers that Alexander makes his money by working as a male prostitute, Dawn decides that she needs a job of her own.

It’s time to call Frankie Lee! And it’s time for Frankie Lee to introduce Dawn to Swan (Bo Hopkins), a pimp who lives in a nice house and who offers to put Dawn to work….

Dawn: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway is an earnest film that was obviously made with the best of intentions and which actually did have something say, in its melodramatic way, about the dangers of running away from home and trying to make it on your own when you’re not even old enough to drive. That said, I imagine that most people who go through the effort to track down this film will do so because it stars The Brady Bunch‘s Eve Plumb as an underage runway who ends up walking the streets and taking men back to her motel room. The movie might as well be called Jan Brady Goes Bad, because Eve Plumb does essentially give the same performance that she gave when she was playing the whiniest member of the Brady Bunch. There’s nothing tough or streetwise about her, which works for the first half of the film but not during the second half. Once Dawn has been on the streets for a bit, you would expect her to toughen up a bit but she still comes across like she’s mad at Greg and Bobby for tying up the phone. Dawn goes through a lot and becomes a bit jaded as a result but, every time she speaks, you expect her to exclaim, “Why does Marcia get to runaway from home but I don’t? It’s not fair!” Far more impressive are the performances of Bo Hopkins and, in the role of Dawn’s probation officer, George Stanford Brown. William Schallert also has a good bit as Dawn’s first client, who ends up feeling so sorry for Dawn that he just give her twenty dollars and then tells her to go back home.

Dawn: Portrait of a Teenage Runway is one of those film that was obviously designed to make parents worry about their kids. It seems to be asking, “Do you know where your children are tonight?” In 1976, I imagine they were busy watching Jan Brady try to make it on the mean streets of Hollywood.