Long before comic book movies were a formulaic billion-dollar genre, there was Tank Girl (1995)—a gonzo, punk-fueled, post-apocalyptic ride that didn’t ask for permission and definitely didn’t care if you liked it. Based on the underground comic by Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett, the film gave us one of the wildest, most stylized adaptations of the decade. At its center? Lori Petty—bold, brash, and bursting through the screen with anarchic charm as the titular antihero.
So how did Petty’s performance hold up in this messy masterpiece? Let’s talk about the good, the bad, and the totally bonkers.
Performance: A Riot in Combat Boots
Lori Petty doesn’t play Tank Girl—she becomes her. From her chaotic energy to her constant fourth-wall flirting, Petty’s performance feels like a blend of Harley Quinn, Bugs Bunny, and every punk zine you weren’t cool enough to read in high school. She delivers one-liners like machine gun fire, dances through danger, and radiates a rebellious spirit that elevates even the most baffling plot points.
Where the film’s narrative sometimes stumbles, Petty keeps marching forward with commitment. She’s magnetic, unpredictable, and absolutely having the time of her life. And that’s what makes it work.
Portrayal: Punk Rock or Patchwork?
Yet Lori Petty clearly understood the chaotic soul of the source material. Her portrayal of Tank Girl doesn’t just nod to the comics—it embodies them, like she was peeled directly from the pages of Jamie Hewlett’s artwork and hurled onto the screen with punk-rock attitude intact. Petty brings the same off-the-wall energy, the same middle-finger-to-authority irreverence, and the same hyperactive, neon-drenched sass that made the original character such a cult icon. She’s not playing Tank Girl so much as she’s channeling her, delivering a performance so tightly in sync with the character’s DNA that it’s hard to imagine anyone else in the role.
But while Petty is fully committed, the film around her feels like it’s pulling its punches. The adaptation struggles to carry the comic’s anarchic tone across the finish line. The Rippers, originally unhinged and monstrous freedom fighters, are declawed into awkward, borderline-comedic mutants. The overt sexuality and radical politics that made the comic both provocative and subversive are either sanitized or lost entirely in the muddled stew of mid-90s studio interference. Instead of embracing the comic’s unapologetic chaos, the movie hesitates—toning down the edge in favor of confused spectacle.
The result? A film that can’t quite decide what it wants to be—but with a lead who never stops knowing exactly who she is. Petty’s Tank Girl is feral, funny, and fearless. It’s the script and direction that blink. Had the rest of the production leaned into the same wild abandon, we might be talking about a game-changing cult classic instead of a fascinating misfire.
The Verdict:
In a time when comic book adaptations were still finding their footing, Lori Petty’s Tank Girl carved out a niche and flipped it off. Her portrayal remains one of the boldest female leads in comic cinema history. And even if the film's chaos sometimes overwhelms its coherence, it’s hard to imagine anyone else driving that tank.
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