Ya-Ya's Divine Sexism

Being sick folks, we sent our most macho movie reviewer to see the least macho movie of the summer. Here1s what Jon Schnaars had to say:

Gentlemen, there is a cancer among us. It is showing at your local multiplex, and I warn you now: Stay Away! Imagine a film created through the creative collaboration of Oprah and Martha Stewart and produced by the Oxygen network. Now shoot it up with a little Thelma & Louise, and you1ll be left with Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.

Now, I wouldn1t call this film a chick flick, I would call it the chick flick. As the culmination of more than a half century of Hollywood1s obsession with making women swoon at the movie theater, Ya-Ya pours on the sap worse than the actors in the film pour on the bad Southern accents. As is the problem with virtually all 3chick flicks2 (a rather cliché term, but nonetheless the most accurate), Ya-Ya leaves us poor defenseless men without any chance of being entertained. This is the story of mothers and daughters, of women maturing, of men being put through unequaled agony. And Ashley Judd doesn1t even take her bra off. Why are we destined to suffer so?

The Walker women<the mother and daughter in question<are not content merely screwing up their own lives, so they must instead drag a loving boyfriend or husband with them. Forget all that crap about mothers and daughters, the real story behind Ya-Ya is the incredible patience and fortitude displayed by these men. Unfortunately, there are no divine secrets here, only tortured male egos and mushy female bonding that serve to make Ya-Ya arguably the most gender-biased film in recent memory, and a surefire boyfriend killer.

Will Hollywood learn from its mistakes, men? Ugh, who cares? Just grab me a beer.