The Creepiest and Most Sexist Reviews Ever Written
It is a truth universally acknowledged that when you work in an industry dominated by white men, you will inevitably experience a lot of creepy sexism. Alas, white men seem to dominate literally every industry, so this chaos is unavoidable, but it’s especially prevalent in the world of pop culture criticism. You don’t have to look far to find reviews of films, TV shows, albums, and so on, that descend into the super unnerving territory. There are far too many critics who seem to think, much like the celebrity profile, that reviews are permission for them to share their sexual fantasies. Other times, they act as though their occupation gives them the right to offend or attack, under the guise of critical theory. As we continue our conversations on the necessity of diversity in criticism and entertainment, let us never forget the creepy and sexist reviews that plagued us for so many years. Let us learn from them. And be grossed out by them.
‘The only grace note in the generally clunky Wonder Woman is its star, the five-foot-ten-inch Israeli actress and model Gal Gadot, who is somehow the perfect blend of superbabe-in-the-woods innocence and mouthiness […] She’s a treat here with her raspy accented voice and driving delivery. (Israeli women are a breed unto themselves, which I say with both admiration and trepidation.) […] Slobbering, S&M-oriented American patriots will be even more put out, given that WW is no longer dressed in red, white, and blue but golden-toned for the international — and perhaps these days less American-friendly — ticket buyers. I didn’t miss Lynda Carter’s buxom, apple-cheeked pinup, though. It was worth waiting for Gadot.’
John Simon on Barbra Streisand
John Simon is an infamously nasty critic who spent a substantial portion of his career attacking people based on their looks. He especially hated Ms. Barbra Streisand, as evidenced by quotes like:
‘arrogantly, exultantly ugly [Simon couldn’t] accept a romantic heroine who is both knock-kneed and ankleless (maybe one of those things, but not both!), short-waisted and shapeless, scrag-toothed and with a horse face centering on a nose that looks like Brancusi’s Rooster cast in liver-wurst.’
He would also write that Streisand looked like a ‘cross between an aardvark and an albino rat surmounted by a platinum-coated horse bun.’
Heroes (Reviewed by Harry Knowles — Ain’t It Cool News)
‘Hayden Panettiere, born August 21, 1989, now 17 (legal in Texas, which is important, because her character is in Odessa, Texas) as the character, Claire Bennett. She’s adorably cute, constantly in her cheerleader uniform. Ok - now never mind that she fulfills the underage cheerleading limber blond virginal demographic. That’s pretty delicious. But they gave her the ability to regenerate and resuscitate from any and all injuries. This power has decided to manifest itself before she’s lost her virginity. Which means - everytime she has sex, she’s a virgin as her hymen will repair itself. Meaning that everytime she’s fucked, its like she’s being fucked for the very first time. OK - that’s WAY WRONG. NOW - add to that - that she’s at the age where cellular growth is complete. This is it. No wrinkles. No sagging breasts. If she has a kid and it pushes the hipbones out… they’ll straighten back and she’ll be fine. Of course - that’s even if she could get pregnant. Would her eggs allow an invading sperm to fertilize? Is that possible? OR - is she simply doomed to enjoy threat free sex for life. Now - here’s the scary part. She’ll never know non-hymen blocked sex. Cuz even if it gets pushed through… on any withdrawal and cycle back in, the hymen will have grown back. SO… It’s my theory that do to the constant discomfort of virginal sex with men, her character will prefer the kind attention of her fellow sex. MEANING - she’ll be a hot, underage, cheerleading lesbian… for life. ALSO - she could have sex with ANYONE. Any disease - unprotected and be perfectly ok. The people behind this show are sick.’
‘Take your seat at any early-evening screening of “Incredibles 2” in the coming days, listen carefully, and you may just hear a shifty sound, as of parents squirming awkwardly beside their enraptured offspring. And why, kids? Because Mommy just leaned over to Daddy and whispered, “Is it just me, or does Mrs. Incredible kind of look like Anastasia in ‘Fifty Shades of Grey?’ You know, the girl in the Red Room, with the whips and all?” And Daddy just rested his cooling soda firmly in his lap and, like Mr. Incredible, tried very hard to think of algebra. As for how Daddy will react later on, during the scene in which Helen and the husky-voiced Evelyn unwind and simply talk, woman to woman, I hate to think, but watch out for flying popcorn.’
Dora and the Lost City of Gold (Reviewed by Todd McCarthy — The Hollywood Reporter)
‘What keeps things alive, up to a point, is the imperturbable attitude of the titular heroine, who is invested with try-and-stop-me spirit by Moner, who’s actually 18 and looks it despite preventive measures. The same goes for Wahlberg, who’s 19. There’s a palpable gap you can’t help but notice between the essentially innocent, borderline-pubescent nature of the leading characters and the film itself, and the more confident and mature vibes emanating from the leading actors. The director seems to be trying to keep the hormones at bay, but there are some things you just can’t disguise, perhaps human nature first and foremost. Dora seems committed to projecting a pre-sexualized version of youth, while throbbing unacknowledged beneath the surface is something a bit more real, its presence rigorously ignored.’
Blade 2 (Reviewed by Harry Knowles — Ain’t It Cool News)
(Honestly, I could be here all day sharing nothing but Harry Knowles’s reviews. Seriously, why did we give this guy so much power and ‘geek king’ kudos for so long?)
‘But having attended the World Premiere of BLADE 2 last night, one inescapable thought crossed my mind during the movie. 10 to 1…. I believe Guillermo Del Toro eats pussy better than any man alive […] BLADE 2 is the tongue, mouth, fingers and lips of a lover. The Audience is the clit. Watch your audience. This is where Guillermo Del Toro goes down on the audience. It starts with long licks with a nose bump on the joy button slowly. He smiles as he does this… Watching the audience begin to squirm, then he takes the audiences’ clit in his mouth and just licks it like crazy, the audience is ready, on that precipice, then calm. He backs off… long licks again, brings in a finger to massage a bit, licks from the bottom to the top… The audience is cooing… He has them, they want release. He acts like he’s going to give it to you, takes you right to the edge, the audiences’ backs arched, ready to cum…. Backs off pinching the nipples just so, his head bobbing up to say, “You like?” The audience shifts around needing release, he builds again… The pressure at a near boiling point… Each stroke and moment a hypersensitive place… Two fingers to the sweet spot, the audience is there… right there at that point… suddenly he’s relentless taking the audience through a rampage of orgasms… trying to get away, trying to escape… back back back, but he has you, and he’s never going to let you forget this moment, the audience was electric… Frenetically frothing… Guillermo hears them begging no more, when he decides to stop for a moment, there is that relaxed calm… The audience relaxes… labored breathing… a sated smile, WHEN SUDDENLY THE RELENTLESS BASTARD IS AT IT AGAIN!!!! You begin laughing, trying to push him away, but no… more pleasure, more joy, more fun… You can’t handle it, you start giggling and screaming… And it goes like this for quite some time, till at the end… The credits roll, the theater lights come up… You look at the screen, you realize you want that tongue again… You want that feeling again, and you watch it again and again, because damn he respects the clit!’
Goodfellas (Reviewed by Kyle Smith — New York Post)
‘But women don’t get “GoodFellas.” It’s not really a crime drama, like “The Godfather.” It’s more of a male fantasy picture — “Entourage” with guns instead of swimming pools, the Rat Pack minus tuxedos […] Women sense that they are irrelevant to this fantasy, and it bothers them […] Ball-busting means cheerfully insulting one another, preferably in the presence of lots of drinks and cigars and card games. (The “GoodFellas” guys are always at the card table, just as the Rat Pack were, while the “Entourage” guys love video games.) Women (except silent floozies) cannot be present for ball-busting because women are the sensitivity police: They get offended, protest that someone’s not being fair, refuse to laugh at vicious put-downs. In the male fantasy, all of this is unforgivable — too serious, too boring. Deal another hand, pour another drink.’
Header Image Source: Getty Images.
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