Define Frenzy: Queering Film Noir in Bound

“Define Frenzy” is a series essays published throughout Pride Month attempting to explore new queer readings or underseen queer films as a way to show the expansiveness of what queerness can be on screen. You can read previous years’ essays here.
Before Lana and Lilly came out as trans, the Wachowski sisters were in tune with how to access queerness in film better than most directors could ever hope to be. From the latex clad characters of The Matrix, to the aesthetic excess of Speed Racer, to the radical androgyny of V for Vendetta (for which they wrote the screenplay), the Wachowskis’ work could always be viewed through a queer lens. But they made their impact as queer filmmakers right out of the gate with Bound, their Wilder-esque feature film debut from 1996 that queers neo-noir and lets it sizzle.
When Violet (Jennifer Tilly) spots a tattoo on Corky’s (Gina Gershon) bicep, she knows. Cruising can be for later, but for now, in the elevator, Violet, who happens to be the wife of a gangster, has set her erotic crosshairs on Corky, an ex-con working as a contractor of sorts in the adjacent apartment. The tattoo is of a labrys, a double-headed axe, a tell tale sign for queer women, whose origins are connected to the Greek goddess of the hunt, Artemis, and of the harvest, Demeter. The two lock eyes briefly, but Violet is sure to make the first move, dropping her earring in the sink.
Steeped in an awareness of lesbian culture, Bound frames the erstwhile affair as both hard boiled and honest. The sex can be explicit, but the subtle coding and code switching of its two leads—both intentionally playing with femme and butch roles; Violet speaking to Corky in a deeper, huskier voice, contrasted against her infantilized elocution to the men in her life—the way they look, speak and touch one another, it all drips in specificity, both to regarding the film’s queerness and the characters’ personalities. The sex seems to solidify what Violet and Corky want to find in one another: a way out of mobster life for the former, and a commitment for the latter.
While the difference in gender presentation between Violet and Corky is compelling, what is of more interest is their class differences, augmented in Violet’s initial seduction of Corky. Dropping a teardrop earring down the sink juxtaposes their class backgrounds, with the accessory evidence of Violet’s privileged life, and the task designated as required given Corky’s job title. Violet’s chic leather jacket does not subdue her affluence, even if that affluence comes via her crooked husband, Caesar (Joe Pantoliano). Wealth and extreme violence halve Violet’s life as a man is brutally knocked off in her once immaculate bathroom. The Wachowskis smash cut to Violet using the blender in her even sleeker kitchen. In comparison, Corky revels in the grease, dirt and fringes of harder labor; her apartment is barer. Her environment not only articulates her butch qualities against Violet’s more femme attributes, but also codes her as working class.