Why is it that when I see that Film 4 funded a film that its going to look like its been made for TV and lacking in scope or depth?
This film could have been a massive example of social justice warrior filmmaking (damn those white men in power!) But instead there are so many twists and turns that characters who were earlier stereotyped as either ‘goodies’ (the strong woman, anyone of colour, the white man labelled a ‘faggot’, the midget…) or baddies (white men with power to abuse, of course) are in fact shown to be three dimensional and fully nuanced. Everyone is capable of good and evil. Yes, even white men can be good! Its a miracle. I hope Oprah has seen this movie.
Sometimes the film’s comedical stance works wonders, sometimes it feels awkward seeing as the film is about makes the rape and murder of a young woman.
The lead character of Mildred is one of the most interesting I’ve seen in a long time and is played to perfection. In fact there are great performances all round. Woody Harrelson is fast building a filmography that would be the envy of any actor.
But the film doesn’t knit together quite right. And sometimes its ‘politiks’ feel so holier than thou that I wanted to vomit. Mildred only looks happy when embracing her black co-worker. Virtue, anyone?
On the plus side, its photographed beautifully with Ebbing looking absolutely gorgeous.
So, not a masterpiece. But with enough redeeming qualities to ensure you’re not looking at your watch.
WARNING- The ending of this film is so sugar coated that you will become diabetic.
This film is basically saying ‘Life sucks whether you have a facial deformity or not’.
Julia Roberts is great (as per). Owen Wilson is in a film that isn’t an utter embarrassment for once (way to go).
But the film feels like an overlong episode from some bright and breezy TV show. Theres no real depth even though the subject of someone being different could be examined perceptively in relation to human nature and people’s vicious pack mentality.
Theres also some vile stereotyping going on here. All the bullies within the film are white and stinking rich. The goodies either have a facial deformity, are related to him, aren’t white or are a member of another religion (the Jewish headmaster). Social justice filmmaking. Urgh.
If John Waters had made this film, the lead character would have accentuated his unique looks, dressed in drag and owned this film. Maybe Mr Waters could remake this. In fact I think hes already made that film- it had songs, dance routines, Divine and was called Hairspray.
Watch Mask instead. You get Cher and bikers thrown in as well.
My local cinema, The Hyde Park Picturehouse here in Leeds regularly shows cult films. I was looking forward to seeing The Room as it had regularly played at a lot of the cult film cinemas like The Prince Charles Cinema and so I thought it must be some kind of newly discovered classic.
The screening I went to was almost sold out. I noticed that the rest of the audience were at least 20 years younger than me. Millennials. Not a good sign. I wondered if they could stay off social media on their mobile phones for the duration of the movie. Or if the concession stand would double up as a safe space for the evening.
And then it started.
Lets get the film’s plot out of the way first. Man is engaged to woman. Woman finds man boring and sleeps with his best friend. Fiancee confides to her mother that she doesn’t want to marry man. Woman tells friends that hubby-to-be got drunk and beat her. This continues until the end of the film where at the man’s birthday party he finds out about the affair and later blows his brains out.
The Room is a movie that shouldn’t be getting any attention of ANY kind. It makes your average straight to video film feel inspired. Is it a cult because of the depths the film plummets in terms of acting? Is it the wafer-thin plot that is almost non-existant? The cheap production standards? No- The Room doesn’t deserve any attention because its what a cult film should never be. Its boring.
Anyway- back to the cinema that I’m watching the movie in. The audience then starts to indulge in something that I think should be heavily penalised in a cinema. I feel like gagging just typing these two words- audience participation. This is the reason why I don’t go to see one of my favourite films, The Rocky Horror Picture Show when its showing on the big screen. Don’t get me wrong- I love the fact that a heterosexual man finds a legitimate reason to wear suspenders and heels in public rather than just in private. But when assholes in the audience start shouting lines at the screen and stand up to do dance moves so you can’t even see the friggin’ film then I start to get all punchy.
And this is what happened with The Room- attention whore audience members trying to outdo each other by shouting out lines, laughing at moments that weren’t funny either intentionally or unintentionally (not that you could tell a lot of the time as you couldn’t hear over the noise being made) and throwing plastic spoons at the screen (just don’t ask). It was all so contrived- ‘I read on Facebook that you do that kind of thing at this movie!’ Then in that case have a screening for your friends in your halls of residence TV room. Imagine the poor cinema usher having to pick up all of the plastic spoons that some privileged student arsewipes threw at the screen- and all in the name of mediocre cinema supported by those trying to be ‘ironic’ *gag*.
I have no problem with audience participation for some cult movies- as long as the cinema warns people beforehand that this is going to happen. This could be a trigger warning for non-millennials and people who just actually want to sit through the movie and be able to fucking hear it.
I think there should also be some screenings of films that have a tradition of ghastly audience participation where this kind of behaviour isn’t permitted. These screenings should be clearly advertised in advance. Cinema ushers should patrol the aisles with electric cattle prods or tasers so that one whiff of a plastic spoon and the perpetrator could be zapped and then ejected (into the care of the local police who would charge them with disorderly conduct no less).
Going to see a film doesn’t always have to be a case of buy your ticket, buy your snacks, find a seat, watch the film. It can also be a feat of showmanship where the fun isn’t confined to what goes on just on the screen. Think of William Castle and the genius gimmicks he used to to elevate an already brilliant film into a unique experience. John Waters was a Castle fan and used a gimmick himself- the Odorama card for his masterpiece Polyester. A number would appear on the screen in a certain scene and you’d scratch off the number on the Odorama scratch n sniff card you got when buying your ticket. Number 2 was exactly that- shit! This kind of showmanship was inspired, in most cases wasn’t done to detract from a dud of a film and the director was still calling the shots rather than some douchbag audience members trying to steal the limelight.
But whilst I love cult cinema and midnight movies, many of the legitimate examples of this genre have a quality in common that The Room will never possess- in many cases they’re brilliant movies that really are worthy of adoration by those touched by their genius.
The people who go to screenings of The Room and profess to be fans of the film are adherers to the adage that some films are ‘so bad they’re good’. I’ve written about that HERE. Why celebrate bad cinema? A cult film should be so good, its brilliant and so you feel the need to tell all and sundry about why thats so.
A couple of years ago the same cinema showed Pink Flamingos. The audience were the same as any other going to see a cult film at The Hyde Park Picturehouse- keen cineasts who know about the film being shown, fans of the film already but also that strong minority (usually students) who have heard about Pink Flamingos being a ‘cult’ film so it must be ‘really bad, right?!’ I’m a huge John Waters fan and was ready to stab anyone who dared to laugh at the film instead of with it. And you know what? There was not one titter, guffaw or groan at the film’s expense from the peanut gallery. The audience was united in being won over by this cinematice masterpiece. They laughed at all the right places and gagged at the appropriate scenes of filth too. The power of Pink Flamingos- it was shocking in the 70s and if anything, in these times of the youngsters of today being offended by everything and being of an ultra-sensitive disposition, its even more shocking. But its also riproariously funny- a quality which has converted even the most staunch cinema snob to Waters’ genius. ‘Jesus! That was actually brilliant!’ said one student to her friend on leaving the screening. Praise indeed.
Please don’t resurrect any old piece of mediocre crap resplendent with bad acting and no plot and elevate it to cult status. Theres enough beige fare in popular culture as it is.
If you’re a fan of The Room you need to see more cult films- and good ones. If you’re a fan and go to screenings, throw plastic spoons at the screen, shout ‘Meanwhile, in San Francisco’ and try to dazzle fellow audience members with your wit, you’re a fucking tool.
The Room- 1 star out of 5- because its something any film should never be- fucking boring.
I had the honour and privilege to be able to see Predator (1987) in 4K and on the big screen the other day. It felt like visiting an old friend.
Predator belongs in Arnie’s Imperial Phase which for my money runs from the Conan films up until Red Heat. At this time he was making action movies that defined the genre, pushed its boundaries but fully exploited their future status on the medium of video- in other words they were violent and gory as hell.
Predator works on so many different levels.
The film is the perfect example of a comic book come to life on celluloid. The film possesses the kind of exaggeration and imagination that normally couldn’t satisfactorily be translated to film. Predator shows that these forays into the surreal and its larger than life action sequences can be successfully conveyed. All of the characters could equally be seen in comic book panels as much as they could be on film. The film is so gung-ho that it feels like a war comic crossed with a shoot em up video game at times.
The Predator’s thermal vision that the audience is privy to is also a comic book device.
Another sequence that is reminiscent of a comic book is when Dillon’s arm is cut off but continues to fire a gun.
Also, just as action and horror movies were massively successful on video in its infancy and its growth as a medium, Predator combines elements of both genres and turns them up to 11. The sequence involving Dillon’s arm is a great example of a sequence that appeals to both action and horror fans.
In fact the film is extremely subversive as it starts as a jungle commando action vehicle but then suddenly changes direction. This could have failed to work and come across as forced and completely contrived if handled in the wrong way. But instead it works brilliantly.
The horror and more specifically the slasher conventions within Predator show that the film wasn’t just appealing to the fans of action movies. The Predator’s handiwork is shown as the jungle crew discover the skinned bodies of others hanging upside down. The crew soon find themselves to be the quarry rather than the hunters in the same way that a group of teenagers would be in a stalk n slash movie. They are easy meat.
The film also contains the same kind of kills found in a slasher movie with skulls, intestines and exploding heads all featuring.
Another slasher staple that features in Predator is the unmasking of the killer which of course prompts Dutch to exclaim ‘You are one ugly motherfucker!’ The unmasking sequence is especially a staple of the Friday 13th films in which Jason Voorhees is regularly unmasked to reveal his true face.
Predator also goes the extra mile when it comes to its action genre ingredients. There are guns and muscles aplenty. But where Predator tries to excel when it deals with these components, in doing so it instantly becomes very very homoerotic.
There must have been something distinctly gay in the air in some Hollywood quarters in 1986/7 as two other unintentionally/intentionally homoerotic films were also made around the same time- Top Gun and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge.
In fact, Predator is so proudly masculine, homoerotic and therefore camp that to take any of these variants further would topple the film headlong into the genre of gay pornography.
It doesn’t take a lot for the ultra masculine to turn ultra homoerotic and camp. Let me illustrate- think of a clockface as representing all of the different variants of masculinity- 1 represents the camp, effete and effeminate (two examples are Quentin Crisp and Julian Clary) and 12 represents the ultra masculine, musclebound and testosterone soaked (Arnie, your average MMA fighter, the larger WWE wrestlers). There isn’t that much of a distance from 1 to 12 on the clockface is there? Also, just because a man might be camp or effeminate doesn’t mean that he isn’t without balls of steel. Do you think it was easy for Julian Clary and Quentin Crisp to be openly gay and effeminate when they first came to light in the public gaze? No- it took guts and moral fortitude. They are far from being submissive sissies. There are paradoxes at the more extreme positions on the clock.
Whilst number 12 on the clockface is seen as the most masculine its also, paradoxically very camp and homoerotic also. The male who wishes to assert his masculinity more potently will build up his physique and muscles. To display this ‘uber masculinity’ he will expose his body more thus paradoxically instantly appeal to the some members of the same sex. He wants to accentuate his masculinity and has at the same time become more camp, desirable and homoerotic because of this.
This heady brew of the masculine and homoerotic is first seen in the film when Dutch comes across his old friend Dillon again. A handshake turns into an epic display of biceps and a very manly (and very camp) arm-wrestle. You could be forgiven that this is in fact some kind of 1980’s gay porno movie.
The camera seems to relish and luxuriate upon the male cast in the film. There are many shots of gleaming muscles, sometimes clutching huge guns. Predator is a glistening, sweaty jerk-off fest for the gay gaze.
The bead of sweat rolling down the ample chest of the character of Billy is one such example of this. The same character later on in the film decides to ‘take it like a man’ by slitting open his well built chest to prompt the predator out of hiding so that they can go one on one. Its a startling display of machismo that is instantly appealing to the action fan and those who are sexually aroused by such testosterone fuelled exhibitionism. ‘Taking it like a man’ means something very different in gay circles. The pitcher becomes receiver. He decides to ‘receive’ the alien.
Within the film there is also the spectacle of the slow striptease of Dutch. Throughout the course of the film Arnold appears in varying degrees of undress and displays more flesh and more muscle. There is also an unbelievable shot when the crew arrive in the jungle. Dutch crawls through undergrowth with the camera just above his body as he does this, resplendent with an amazing shot of his arse. Ever wanted to know what it would be like to be on top of the film’s lead character? The camera realises this for the spectator.
Arnold’s striptease cumulates with his character covered in mud (!) with a lit torch in one hand and giving a manly bellow to the heavens to alert the alien that he is ready for battle. Man vs alien- and no ugly extra-terrestrial is going to kick Arnie’s alpha-male butt. Whilst this scene is intended not only to signify the potency of the masculinity on display its also the ultimate in homoeroticism and camp iconography- a distillation of the whole film in one sequence.
Theres also the bromance/relationship between Mac and Blain. After Blain is killed there is a palpable longing on the part of Mac which suggests that he misses him for being more than just a fellow soldier. This pining between two male characters is reminiscent of Peter being distraught by the passing of Roger in George A Romero’s Dawn of the Dead. Or the ending of Brokeback Mountain. Yes, nothing gay here.
In fact Blain recalls the ‘macho man’ archetype in the same way that The Village People’s leather-clad biker does- moustache, sexually potent (Blaine describes himself as a ‘sexual tyrannosaurus’), whilst looking down on others who aren’t as masculine. Blaine refers to those people as ‘slack jawed faggots’ the way a leather fan might look down on the camper constituents of his community. Also, notice the use of the word ‘faggots’- Blaine doth protest too much. Or hes just trying to deflect from the obvious conclusions.
With the character of Blaine there also the issue of guns, the size of those guns and the ‘gun as phallus/symbol of manhood’ baggage that is imbued with such imagery. Just as Blaine has stated that he is a ‘sexual tyrannosaurus’ he qualifies this with the gun he carries- a huge gun that can fire countless bullets at once and has a barrel that rotates as its doing this. Blaine calls the gun ‘Old Painless’ and at one point says that its time to bring it out of its bag. This recalls the way a man might say its time to ‘unleash the beast’. Never has a gun represented a penis so obviously.
Also within the film there seems to be a celebration of gun size as an extension of manhood for each character. There are many shots of gleaming muscles and equally huge guns held proudly by each character. Theres also the incredible scene in which the muscled components of the crew fire their guns into the jungle when they happen to see the alien. The scene goes on for way too long, prompting the audience to question why this is. A joyous piece of action genre abandon? A display of unabashed masculinity? Or the film’s equivalent of a circle jerk? This scene is as close as the film can come to each character having his cock out to show who really is King Dong.
In fact the film early on introduces a female character into the proceedings to seemingly try to stop the film being a solely male musclefest. Shes also introduced to make the film homosocial- a female distraction from the otherwise all male action and to show that, ”y’know, we’re not actually faggots or nuthin’ ”.
Anna Gonsalves however isn’t the kind of weak and spineless female character who requires a man to save her from any encroaching danger. She is resourceful and an equal. She spends her formative scenes trying to escape from the crew but then is seen as someone more than willing to pitch in to save herself and the lives of the others in the crew from the predator. She is self-sufficent and with this all male crew, thats pretty much for the best. Saving women would take away from their self-love and exhibitionism.
Ultimately what was Predator’s demographic and who it was made for- the laydeez? Of course not. It was made for male action and horror fans. This vehicle of muscles and macho posturing with the odd splatter scene was made for men. It makes the film even gayer/homoerotic.
Even the behind the scenes stills from Predator were homoerotic. Hers a picture of Arnie holding a huge snake.
But whilst most of society was a homophobic cesspit when Predator was released the world seems to have changed since. Homophobia is thankfully being seen as unjust, outdated and as never being valid in the first place. Arnie is now a successful Republican politician. Whilst everyone was celebrating the amendment that allowed Gay Marriage in America people on Facebook were changing their profile pictures so that they had a rainbow flag filter. Arnie did the same. Most welcomed this. However some old school action fans did not. Arnie’s comeback was epic.
Things really were changing. Just as Arnie was finally embracing gay marriage and equality, was it possible that he knew that Predator was in fact a homoerotic musclefest all along? It would be great if someone from the Predator crew came forward to say that that this was actually the intention. Just imagine the uproar!
I woke up to the news a couple of days ago that Charles Manson had died. My gut feeling was one of loss.
Yes thats not the acceptable thing to say when a serial killer dies. And not just any serial killer but the capo of serial killers. A serial killer so conniving that he even brainwashed and groomed others to do the majority of the killing for him. Nice try, Charlie.
He was the person who caused the loss of many innocent lives, even the lives of victims not born yet (Sharon Tate was seven months pregnant when she was slaughtered). He also figuratively ended the lives of the members of his Family who still languish in prison after committing the crimes after being plied with LSD and coerced into committing these atrocities. Just as he set up an alibi for himself for the murders whereby he could demonstrate he didn’t kill anyone, he also tried to conclusively incriminate the Family members who actually did kill on the two nights of massacres.
And yet whilst he was utterly vile in action and deed, I experienced a strange sense of loss because he was and is so very interesting. His actions and deeds are now ingrained in American history and he is seen as ‘The Man Who Killed The 60’s.’ Yes, murder is abhorrent but with such a moniker, as Quentin Crisp observed about the serial killer Gilles de Rais, ‘its hard not to be impressed’. History is balance and Manson seemed to be a one man Yang to the flowers, peace and love of late 60’s America’s Ying.
His image on the cover of Life magazine was possibly the first time that the general public were given a glimpse of the man who had caused all of the carnage they had read about. It didn’t disappoint and perfectly captured who he was, what he had done and what he symbolised in American society. He was The Boogeyman and his iconic picture was enough to induce countless nightmares just like Myra Hindley’s infamous mugshot had a few years earlier over the pond.
The reactions to Manson’s death in the media and social media only heightened my sense of loss regarding it. Lots of people were crawling out from under their rocks to type ‘R.I.P’ but taking the time to exclaim to everyone that this in fact meant ‘Rot In Pieces’. And then there were those (and there were many) who took great delight in saying what they’d like to have done to Manson. One sticks in my mind more than others- a Facebook user said that he’d like to ‘bring Manson back to life so that I can beat him to death again with my bare hands’. Nothing sinister or dark there whatsoever.
Within a film group that I’m a member of the news of his death was reported with the group’s admin asking ‘Who should play him in a film?’ Someone responded ‘NO ONE! Why would anyone want to see a film about that psycho nutjob? Why try to romanticise his life?’ In other words this person was wildly trying to virtue signal and say ‘Look everyone, I have higher morals than a serial killer! I’m going to demonstrate them now! When do I get my prize?’ Thankfully not everyone agrees with this dullard.
My initial pang of loss was due to the fact that Manson permeated and overlapped with so much popular culture that I have loved since my teens. Yes he was a serial killer, yes he was interesting in the societal and historical framework of America but also he was really good value for money!
There are numerous great documentaries on Manson and his followers but the one that had the biggest impact on me was one called Charles Manson: Then and Now which I bought on VHS in 1992. I’ve transferred it to YouTube and it can be found here. Note the presentation- an audio track that is so high that its distorted, references to Manson’s influence on exploitation/drive-in films and alternative music (note the picture of Genesis P Orridge from his/her Throbbing Gristle days), sinister horror film incidental music. This is the stuff of mondo culture and I lapped it up as a teen and continue to.
After devouring this documentary I also picked up a copy of the excellent book Helter Skelter by Vincent Bugliosi who was the prosecutor at the Manson trial. Thorough, exhaustive and amazingly researched. Also worth investigating is the book The Family by Ed Sanders (lead singer of the Fugs).
On a lighter note, a book that I picked up much later was this- yes, Columbo takes on the Manson Family. I’m still waiting for the Dirty Harry-Son of Sam crossover novel but it hasn’t materialised yet.
Whilst there were many Manson inspired B- movies that were hurriedly made around the time of Manson’s trial (documented well in the above linked documentary), the best film is Helter Skelter which is more a biopic of Manson and his Family’s life. This was actually a TV movie back in the day and earned massive ratings as viewers couldn’t wait to watch the grisly events unfurl. And the Moral Minority still take the moral high ground and get all Mary Whitehouse about such productions even though they are massively popular.
Helter Skelter is available on DVD and well worth obtaining. It stars Steve Railsbeck who was in Turkey Shoot. If this doesn’t act as a high enough recommendation then I don’t know what will. He is Charles Manson.
Manson also cast a shadow over the work of John Waters which I started watching when I was 13. In the film Multiple Maniacs, Lady Divine holds Mr David in check by continually reminding about that night in the Hollywood Hills and the people they supposedly killed- a reference to the Tate-LaBianca murders that at that time hadn’t been solved or attributed to Manson yet. Waters would later attend the Manson trials.
Also in the film Pink Flamingos Divine walks past a wall that is spraypainted with the moniker ‘Love Tex Watson xx’ Waters’ next film Female Trouble is even dedicated to Charles Watson. The story regards a criminal and eventual murderer, Dawn Davenport who equates crime with beauty and fame. She is encouraged to be even more extreme in her actions whilst keeping them in line with her beliefs after being groomed and brainwashed by Donald and Donna Dasher. This brainwashing is very reminiscent of Manson- in Female Trouble liquid eyeliner takes the place of LSD as a mind-altering lubricant for this grooming and puppetry. Also within this film there are the scenes in which Davenport disrupts court proceedings just like Manson did by screaming the word ‘Liar!’ at certain points. She also makes statements as to her own magnitude and her sense of self-worth.
But Female Trouble’s most perceptive observations are regarding fame and crime. Theres really not much difference between Elizabeth Taylor being filmed and photographed by the press in an airport terminal and Charles Manson receiving the same treatment on his way to court. Yes, Manson was responsible for the murder of several people. Some people would say Elizabeth Taylor’s later celluloid forays were the artistic equivalent.
Waters later said that he regretted his flippancy regarding Manson and his Family in his films as he got to know Leslie Van Houten who hes now friends with and believes is now ready for parole. I’ve never seen Waters more serious in his interviews except when speaking of Van Houten who he says was just a pawn in Manon’s overall scheme- a disillusioned middle class girl who wanted to rebel and came into contact with Satan himself. Shes now free from the magnetic hold of Manson but serving life in prison for her involvement whilst briefly under the influence of a master manipulator. An account of Waters’ friendship with Leslie is a chapter in Waters’ book, Role Models (an amazing book. Highly recommended).
Another aspect of Manson and his legacy that I found intriguing was his position as a countercultural icon. Once Manson’s face and crimes were well known his image would appear on all manner of merchandise to be lapped up by the darker components of the counterculture and those who wanted to stick two fingers up at authority. You’re an angry teenager who wants to shock all those around you and give Mom and Dad a coronary? Buy a Charles Manson t-shirt. This action was akin to the first London punks wearing a swastika. They might not have been Nazis but they wanted to shock and outrage. The older generation who had used the ‘I fought the war for your kind!’ line would be apoplectic with rage at a fashion accessory like a swastika armband. Job done.
But there were also those in the counterculture who looked to Charlie as some kind of religious leader just like his Family members did. A major source of his twisted philosophy were his lyrics. Yes, Charlie was a singer, musician and lyricist. His songs are actually pretty good. But I’ve never subscribed to this ‘Charles Manson, philosopher’ schtick. Hes too much of a fucking nutjob for that.
So, Charles Manson has died. The end of the end of the 1960s and the beginning of the 1970’s. Altamont, Nixon, Vietnam…Charlie’s place in this dark period of American historical events is assured.
Please don’t take the moral high ground by suggesting that reading and watching about Manson and his dark, warped place in American history is bad. Through examination and analysis maybe there are clues to the prevention of such a bloodsoaked chain of events ever occurring again. And if there aren’t signs as to this and you’re not a moralistic twat on Facebook then you’ll realise that its still just a really interesting topic, no matter how grisly.
It seems to me that its the people who try to suppress and prevent others from investigating the darker incidents from history that have more to hide and conceal themselves. After all, Fred West’s favourite movies were exclusively made by Disney as he didn’t approve of violence in films. And we all know how fucked up he was.
As its International Men’s Day I thought I’d review a documentary that I saw a few days ago.
How did I learn of The Red Pill? Thats a journey in itself…Someone tried to bully me in my place of work for being openly gay (note the word ‘tried’. I fought back and have never seen myself as a victim. I’m a fighter). However, in the midst of what was happening to me I began to suffer from clinical depression. The panic attacks that I had kept at bay since the age of 13 were now out of control and I began to experience suicidal thoughts on a daily basis.
It was whilst suffering from all of this that I began to research the issue of suicide and learnt that 75-78% of suicides are male. This fact shocked me massively.
And so from looking into male suicide I learnt about The Red Pill. The title is actually a reference to the movie The Matrix ”in which the protagonist is offered the choice of a red pill, representing truth and self-knowledge, or a blue pill representing a return to blissful ignorance”.
I knew that the film was seen as controversial to some people with some feminists wanting it to be banned.
So is this film about the Men’s Rights Movement a rancid cesspool of anti-feminism rhetoric, a film that only conveys views from rape enablers that are fundamentally anti-women? Of course not. The film is amazingly balanced with Men’s Rights activists finally given a platform as well as feminists on the same topics. I had never heard these Men’s Rights advocates speak before which is also very telling. The audience is granted a modicum of intelligence with which they can make up their own mind.
Topics raised and discussed include male suicide, the lack of funding for male health conditions such as testicular and prostate cancer, the custody battles that fathers go through, the male victims of domestic abuse…the list goes on. These are all issues in which there is no equality between the sexes with men coming out disadvantaged.
The documentary itself is amazingly made by filmmaker Cassie Jaye. She presents a well rounded and perceptive documentary that is balanced, fact-based and free from hysterical amateur dramatics. The documentary flows effortlessly and you feel like you want to see more when it finishes. Thankfully there are uncut and unedited interviews from the film on YouTube. And whilst you’re on YouTube look up Cassie Jaye’s videos. Especially of note are the interviews given to the Australian media who had never even seen the film (they claim that Ms Jaye hadn’t supplied the film for them to see when in fact she had and several times. Ignorance is bliss, Andrew O’Keefe) but called it misogynistic and hateful. This is clear proof that they had never seen the film as The Red Pill is neither.
But it seems that others are also taking The Red Pill. Taste of Cinema had a list of their favourite documentaries on their website recently. The Red Pill featured in that list. And it fully deserved to be there.
I’ll finish this review by reiterating the fact I quoted earlier. 75-78% of suicides are male. 75-78%! These conversations regarding men’s issues need to be had before there are many more casualties. And I speak from very bitter experience. The Red Pill starts this process of discussion and discourse in a brilliantly balanced and intelligent way. Thank you, Cassie Jaye.