Smart cookie youngster me avoided the obvious film/TV culprits of chauvinism and female body horror: slasher films, stoner & sex comedies and anything that looked cheap & mainstream. I went for the ‘high art and ‘prestige’ markets instead.
Little did I know that mens’ extra perversity masquerades specifically under the
art/prestige label. This is how I ended up ingesting the following toxic nightmares: Pan’s Labyrinth, Blue Velvet, Lost, Nip/Tuck, Quills, Don’t Look Now, Last tango, Requiem for a Dream. Next to them Apatow ‘comedies’ seem like child’s play.
Pan’s Labyrinth is in a league of its’ own, in fact. It is a physically disgusting, slimy fantasy playing out in a dying 10 y.o. girl’s mind…after she’s killed by her step-sperm donor (aka father). Chew on that concept alone for a moment. That this is what men call entertainment…
It gets more enlightening on the sick mens’ minds front when you look at the fantasy itself: in no world would a 10 y.o. girl dream of it. Not even a lethally injured one. In fact, I’d fathom to say that a dying child would dream of her good associations on earth – she would think of of her mother, puppies, flowers,…anything pleasant. Here it gets too horrible for me to even imagine this any further, so I’lll stop. All the ugly bugs and mythical creatures we see instead are clearly straight from Very Creative Dude in Charge TM’s demented brain cells.
All I remember about Quills is the tongue removal. Blue Velvet is too amateurish & twisted to even describe insightfully. It plugs the virgin/whore/mother dichotomy like no tomorrow. Nip/Tuck substitutes your usual sexual/violent sadism towards female bodies with gruesome plastic surgery (how original!), and bores you to tears with the Very Special Bromance of the 2 lead dicks. I’m quoting someone from the web here: that every actress on the show must’ve gotten the same character direction: Hysterical bitch. Interpret freely! Lost is downright femicidal (often via pregnancy) with a tonne of mummy issues.
There were certain dudely films that I watched without absorbing any of the content as it wasn’t stimulating enough to even grab me at the basic digestion level: 8! (animation), Fellini’s 8.5, some Russian Mephistopheles & Tree of Life mumb0-jumbo. I sat through Goodfellas with eyes closed 90% of the time to block out the violence, so I couldn’t make any sense out of the remaining snippet. I couldn’t make it through 5 mins of Saving Private Moron (or whatever he was called).
I want to get all that viewing time back & spit some of this vomit-inducing content back out. No amount of looking at gorgeous dogs in cherry blossoms can fix it.
Because you see – there’s something more sinister carried on mens’ megaphones than severe understimulation. It is psychological torture of us – the captive female populace. It also denies us the entertainment material that we need to connect to each other. Men, on the other hand, bond over all this radioactive brain poison like peas in a pod.