So when people were piping delirious at me that there was oh my god, a new Coen Brothers film out! – I wasn’t massively over-excited. I also heard it was a remake, and I’m not vastly excited about those, either. And then I heard it was a Western; the film genre I’m least excited about. So please understand, then, the genial ambivalence that coursed, skin-tone-knuckled, through my laid-back veins as I sauntered casually to see True Grit last Thursday.

*** For those who’ve not seen it, the SPOILER WARNING goes here.***

I went to see it at my local Picturehouse cinema, which is my favourite cinema in the world (except for the old Odeon in Pwllheli, Wales, which has honest-to-god curtains and an usherette – or at least it did last time I went, which was in the 90s!) because of its serene, sociable atmosphere and gorgeous staff. It’s nothing like Vue, which – despite having equally beautiful staff – stresses me out with its up-selling and chemical-weapon nachos. By the time I’d got to my seat, I was practically horizontal with how much chillaxing was going down Chez Moi, and even the beautiful car advert with the people tangoing barely got my blood pressure above a whisper.

The film began. A young girl’s voice proclaiming her story and the death of her father. Something flickered deep in the back of my mellow mind as my feminism gland quivered, detecting an atypical female lead character. Sure enough, hypnotically well-written sentence followed well-spoken phrase, and there she was: 14-year-old Mattie Ross (the hilariously under-championed-on-the-poster-credits Hailee Steinfeld), out to avenge her father’s death in a backbiting, injust world dominated by grizzled old men whose extensive facial hair is only out-done by their bastardliness.

She is sharp, intelligent and scheming – easily either the equal or superior of the men she takes on – with an unshakeable sense of duty and justice which tides her actions along throughout the film. She will see the man who killed her father hanged, damnit, and he will be hanged in her state, in full knowledge of the reason for his hanging. She takes on scurrilous scoundrels at their own game and betters them, taking advantage of their constant underestimating her powers of perception and reason, and her stalwart determination.

But this is a man’s world – specifically, an old man’s world. Every character other than Mattie is weather-beaten and dog-eared regardless of how long they’ve been on the earth. They’re as ancient and savage as the wilderness around them and they’re a lot more worldly-wise. Mattie isn’t naive, and has a strong sense of the way things should work, but she isn’t as jaded as the men whose company she keeps, and this throws up great, gaping chasms of inexperienced vulnerability for her to bridge every once in a while. She is genuinely shocked and outraged when, for example, Matt Damon‘s (surprisingly well-acted – it is Matt “Puzzled Indifference” Damon we’ve got here, after all…) Texan ranger, LaBoeuf, expresses a desire to capture the same man that she pursues, and have him hanged in his own state for his own reasons.

The society Mattie finds herself having to navigate for the honour of her father cannot even countenance her being their equal. She is constantly belittled and spoken down to, even though she proves herself a formidable adversary. The men she encounters infantilise her, call her “baby sister” and regularly denounce her as “ugly”, as though the only expected worth she is meant to have in the world is her beauty. She easily proves that she has more than looks to offer – but that’s not what she’s meant to offer.

I am thoroughly depressed to admit that I was expecting a rape, having not read the book and given the common trope of “Strong Female Character Ends Up Raped” in films. Now, I don’t know how this pans out, therefore, in the book the film is based on, but Mattie is grossly manhandled and spanked in the film by LaBoeuf after she follows he and his rival Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) out into the wilderness. He trivially overpowers her – as a barely pubescent 14-year-old – and the whole scene feels like a total violation, despite such abuse being common in the historical context of the setting. It’s awful, and culminates in one of the times that Cogburn steps in to save her.

That’s the other thing – Mattie does end up getting rescued quite a bit. All things considered, I can actually get behind this. All the situations in which she finds herself in need of rescue are situations that either come about as a direct result of, or are exacerbated by, her stature. She’s bloody tiny! Comments on her size are manifold – she’s a “fleabite”, “skin and bone”, and a “horsefly”. She’s more determined and courageous than either of the great big chaps she takes with her on her quest, but she’s knocked off her feet by the recoil of a rifle, and is thrown about like a doll when LaBoeuf spanks her. She isn’t powerless, but she is young – and female – and with that comes an inescapable physical vulnerability which comes up time and time again in the film.

But she wins. Oh yes. She completes her revenge cycle, and she wins. The film closes on her several years later, describing herself as “never having time enough for family” of her own. She out-survives all the members of her family – and, tragically, Cogburn, who saved her life – and is unassailably strong for it. You get the strong impression that the story the film tells is only one of her many stories, and it was certainly not the last time she went off adventuring. That’s what I like to think, anyway. I loved her.

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES. Coming to a cinema near you! IN MY MIND.

Oh, did I mention how fucking hilarious the whole thing is? It’s weird, dry, creaky, strange humour and I love it. The dialogue is solid and glittering as polished brass, and the characters are all highly engaging, and it’s a pleasure to hear them speak. The film’s also a joy to look at – it’s all in Gritty Realistic Brown, but in a golden, glowing way, rather than a used-coffee-filter way. Machinery, horses and scenery are fetished to roughly the same amount, and I derived a great deal of pleasure comparing Mattie’s smooth, young face to the craggy old men, rocks and steam trains that surround her, because I’m a freak with no life and a grand love of textures.

ONE MORE THING. There is, as is only correct and proper for the time, racism in this film that’s just casually there and not even questioned and it’s horrific. There’s a pretty brutal hanging scene, and the Native American fellow isn’t even allowed to say his final words before the sack is tugged over his head, cutting him off mid-flow. I am disappointed to say that the audience I found myself with laughed at that, though I’d like to believe that it was a nervous laugh out of shock and disgust, rather than amusement. Black humour is one thing, and it’s clearly quite an extreme situation, but it’s deeply uncomfortable nevertheless, because horrendous attitudes towards indigenous American people still exist.

YOU SHOULD SEE THIS FILM BECAUSE:

• Mattie is one of the finest and most likeable lead characters I have ever seen
• It’s well-written and genuinely hilarious (like, shout-with-laughter-disturbing-the-other-cinema-goers-hilarious)
• The characters are engaging, really well-scripted, and engrossing to watch
• It is exceedingly good to look at in a visual sense

YOU SHOULD NOT SEE THIS FILM BECAUSE:

• You know, I have absolutely no idea what would unrecommend this film to you. Perhaps if you’re really, really allergic to Westerns? And hate panoramic shots of mountains with a passion rivalled only by that of my hatred for toesocks?

“She gave her aid to all in need
To hungry, sick and cold
Open hand and heart, ready to give
Kind words, and acts, and gold.”

– Punch Magazine

The only known photograph of Mary, c.1873.

Mary Jane Seacole is perhaps somewhat better known than most of those appearing in this series, having been included in Britain’s National Curriculum and featured on postage stamps as part of the National Portrait Gallery’s 150^th anniversary. Despite this she stands as a perfect example of the sort of person we’re interested in here: one who went to extraordinary lengths to achieve their goals, facing risks and giving freely of their time and energy, yet without becoming a household name associated with awesomeness. In Seacole’s case this was primarily due to the fact that she’s been overshadowed in popular consciousness by the similarly impressive Florence Nightingale. So, let’s look back to the 19^th century and find out a little about the Crimean War’s other famous nurse.

Born in Kingston, Jamaica in 1805, Seacole was exposed to medicine from an early age. Her mother was a ‘doctress’, using Caribbean herbal remedies to treat diseases – chiefly the yellow fever that was endemic in Jamaica at the time – and Seacole followed in her footsteps. Travels throughout the Caribbean and Central America gave her the chance to broaden her knowledge of herbal treatments, and even to perform an autopsy on a victim of cholera in Panama, an experience she described as “decidedly useful”.

Cholera, along with yellow fever, was one of the biggest sources of patients throughout Seacole’s career. An outbreak hit Kingston in 1850, killing over 30,000 Jamaican people, and Seacole played a role in stopping the death toll from rising higher still. She would battle a cholera epidemic again in 1851 whilst visiting Panama, and a yellow fever outbreak upon returning to Jamaica in 1853. During this time she also began treating people surgically as well as herbally, helping victims of knife and gunshot wounds. Whilst her obvious skills earned her a measure of respect, that respect was tinged with both racial and sexual prejudices, often depicting her as someone who was talented “for a woman,” or “for a non-white.” In her autobiography, she remembers an American delivering a speech at a dinner in Panama, who said of her that “if we could bleach her by any means we would […] and thus make her acceptable in any company as she deserves to be.” This attitude quite rightfully incensed her.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the last time Seacole faced issues as a result of discrimination based on her gender or race. The outbreak of the Crimean War brought with it a concurrent outbreak of disease, especially cholera. Disease was soon proving more lethal to troops by far than injury at the hands of the enemy, and word went out about the need for trained medics. Seacole, as we have established, was something of an expert on cholera by this point, and set sail for Britain. She arrived carrying letters of recommendation from Jamaican and Panamanian doctors, and offered her services to the British Army. She was denied an interview, as the British Army were not entirely keen on female medics at the time.

Conditions in the Crimea, however, forced them to reconsider, with public outcry following an exposure in The Times leading them to form a nursing corps, headed up by Florence Nightingale. Seacole applied to join this group and was again rejected. This time, she felt, the rejection was due to her race.

Having run into two different strands of prejudice and having had her services refused twice, did Seacole go home? Did she return to Kingston, where her work would be appreciated, and where her fairly successful business was located? Of course not. There were people that needed helping, and she was an expert in the skills that would help them.

Seacole travelled to Crimea using her own funds, presenting herself at Nightingale’s hospital in Scutari. Once more she was rejected. So she she did what any incredibly determined badass would do: she built her own hospital. She didn’t have proper building materials or the finances to acquire them, so she built the hospital just outside Sevastopol, using salvaged metal, driftwood and packing cases. Because when you’re awesome you don’t let a little thing like not having a hospital or anything but the most rudimentary of construction supplies stand in the way of helping those in need.

Seacole provided treatment for the sick during the mornings, travelling out to the battlefield later in the day to tend to the wounded. This was often done with the battle still raging on; she would treat injured soldiers from both sides whilst under fire. She reportedly asked no payment for her services from those who were too poor to pay, accepting money only from those who could spare it. Despite this, and continuous thefts of her hospital’s supplies, she prospered, becoming a well-known figure amongst the soldiers in Crimea, who called her “Mother Seacole.” When Sevastopol fell during the autumn of 1855 she was the first woman to set foot in the captured city, again bringing supplies and healing to both sides.

Mary's blue plaque, Soho, London. Image by Flickr user Simon Hariyott, shared under a Creative Commons licence.

But following the war, Seacole did not fare well. With the fighting over there was no more need for her hospital, and little profit to be made from selling off the supplies there. Hounded by creditors, she returned to England destitute, having given everything she had to provide care to people who needed it. In return, the public took care of her, with several prominent people donating to a fund for her, encouraged by a plea from Punch magazine.

Following her death in 1881 Seacole’s impressive actions faded from public awareness, forgotten in favour of Nightingale for the larger part of a century. It has only been in the last decade or two that awareness and recognition of her deeds has begun to resurface.

I lingered behind, and stooping down, once more gathered little tufts of grass, and some simple blossoms from above the graves of some who in life had been very kind to me, and I left behind, in exchange, a few tears which were sincere.

A few days latter, and I stood on board a crowded steamer, taking my last look at the shores of the Crimea.

– Mary Seacole

Seacole’s autobiography, The Wonderful Adventures of Mrs. Seacole In Many Lands, is freely available from Project Gutenberg here.

• Unsung Heroes: a new series on BadRep spotlighting fascinating people we never learned about at school…
• Guest blogger Rob Mulligan… is a guest no longer! We’ve had such a good response to this series he’s boarded the good ship BadRep on an ongoing basis. Hurrah! He also blogs at Stuttering Demagogue. Stay tuned for future Heroes.