Jodie Foster plays the most adorable serial killer in "The Brave One," a vigilante thriller set in corners of New York City nasty enough to send chills up Travis Bickle's spine.

Foster plays Erica, a broken woman who roams the streets alone, shuffling uneasily with a handbag at her side. It's wrong to say someone's asking for an attack, but in Erica's case, she is.

She was forever changed in the opening sequence, when thieves beat her nearly to death and killed her fiance. Her coma lasted just long enough for her to miss the funeral but be home when the box of wedding invitations hits her doorstep.

The senseless violence unleashed upon her on that hellish night somehow fused itself into her blood. She buys a gun on the black market and gets to work, posing as a defenseless mark so she can deliver swift retribution to those who try to take her down. She hungers for blood.

On a lonely subway car, Erica stands by as two thugs mug a college kid and harass an old man and a child. Once they've left, one of the criminals presses a knife to Erica's chest.

It's just the opportunity she craves. Where fear once sprung, there's now nothing but a maw of emptiness, filled only by fluttering daggers of rage. In an instant she lays waste to the perpetrators and calmly leaves the subway car, her victim's head plopped in the doorway.

This killing was easier than the last one. She's gotten more smooth and accurate. Now Erica's hands no longer tremble as she strolls home.

Director Neil Jordan ("The Crying Game") draws the viewer into Erica's tormented mind. A cut above your everyday revenge drama, "The Brave One" is a tantalizing bundle of contradictions. It's a throwback girl-with-a-gun exploitation tale, as well as an evolved feminist fable; and an impeccable dissection of gun control, as well as a wicked mockery of NRA mentality.

Echoes abound of the similarly themed "Death Wish," a 1974 film that spawned four sequels.

But as strong a presence as Charles Bronson had, he was no Jodie Foster, as far as acting ability. Her raw, nervy turn makes you feel every pang of self-loathing, every self-right-eous thrill of her deadly impulses and the dread sense of confused emptiness that comes with the loss of her loved one. It's a triumphant performance that hangs with Foster's Oscar-winning efforts in "The Accused" and "The Silence of the Lambs."

Erica leads a double life. By day, she's a popular radio-show host who records essays about her travels and life experiences. But as the anonymous killer's popularity grows with her audience, she passionately rails against the vigilante mentality. She even befriends a detective (Terrence Howard) who's on the hunt for the "vigilante gunman," while craving her next nightly adventure through what she derisively refers to on-air as "the safest big city in the world."

Erica is brave, yes, but also a coward for refusing to acknowledge her feelings and trying to shoot away her pain. Yet Jordan's film avoids simple moralizing, instead sprinting into dark moral ambiguity where few Hollywood films dare to venture.