BY CARBOLIC SMOKE BALL MAN-HATING FILM CRITIC MISS ANDRY: "The Brave One" is a rapturous feminist call to bloodlust, a vengeance porno flick with the soul of a grindhouse potboiler, and the best white male-bashing feast served up by Hollywood in years.

Jody Foster plays a New York radio essayist who is brutally attacked in Central Park one June night, along with her dark-skinned Indian physician fiance, by three males of "indeterminate" race (a code word for "most likely white"). She is transmogrified by the experience and sprouts invisible feminist testicles that take her on a wild and wonderful killing spree to take out men.

The film is a cavalcade of misogynists just asking for it. There's the raging white guy who storms into a convenience store and kills his angelic wife working behind the counter because she, quite properly, won't give the brute custody of their child. This, of course, is typical of how white men behave in child custody disputes. Never fear: Jody's got his gonads in a bulls eye. Then there are the two misogynist hip-hoppers on a subway (the film's sole acknowledgement that black guys also have been testosterone-poisoned by the patriarchy). Their sorry asses aren't long for this world after they start teasing Jody with a knife. And there's the rich white guy who's into rich white-guy-crime-stuff (oh, and he also killed his wife, of course). Jody takes him out as a favor to the film's black guy cop played by Terrence Howard, who shares Jody's sensitivities but can't act on them due to the strictures of the patriarchal legal system that flatly refuses to protect womyn from the males who threaten them at every turn.

There's also the pimp with an angelic, drugged-up, black prostitute in the back seat of his car. (You must understand that the prostitute is never a consenting adult doing "business" with a pimp; the pimp is always an evil, oppressive male taking advantage of a poor womyn who just needs to make a living and put her kids through school.) Jody rescues the saintly womyn and then takes out the wretched pimp in a blaze of glory. Jody even gives the womyn a cross because, as everyone knows, atheistic radical feminists are purely spiritual beings. The other females in the flick also come off well, sort of like Mother Theresa-as-Streetwalkers. For example, there's the cherubic black neighbor who tends to Jody's wounds after one of her killings and doesn't report her to the police even though Jody admits what she's done. And there's the black paramour of one of Jody's attackers who rats out the scum to Jody simply because it's the right, feminist thing to do.

The males, of course, pretty much all come off as misogynists, because that's pretty much all they are (except for Terrence Howard, who probably sports a set of ovaries under his fine black skin). A white teenage male witness, whose father is a lawyer, describes the vigilante to a policewomyn by giggling about Ms. Foster's -- his words, not mine -- "ass" and "titties." The policewomyn removes his white male privileged smirk with a stern look.

Everyone assumes that the vigilante is a male because womyn don't do things like this. Even Jody talks about the vigilante on the radio as "he." (Hee, hee, hee.) The black cop, Terrence Howard, catches on that Jody is doing all the killing toward the end of the film, but then he does the right feminist thing and makes sure Jody is not outed. In the end, Jody isn't even charged, much less convicted, for killing eight (8) males (way to go, Jody!). The world still thinks the killer is a male, which is as it should be. The moral, of course, is that Jody isn't guilty because her victims were merely expendable males who, in her view, did wrong.

My one quibble: they should have had the men rape Jody, of course. Perhaps a prolonged gang rape. Then her vengeance would have been all the sweeter. Well, you can't have everything. Nonetheless, I give this one FOUR BREASTS.