lia’s review published on Letterboxd:
when the credits rolled i audibly whispered "thank god" to myself and the two millennials in front of me (one of whom's fat ass fucking bald head was blocking half the subtitles the whole time) turned around to glare at me and this is how i know the generational divide will only deepen from here on.
seriously though, did something in this go over my head or is everyone on the internet playing a really well choreographed prank on me?? i was so bored to tears the whole time i literally sprinted out of the theater to go buy frozen yogurt the second it ended. (if you were at the manor in squirrel hill yes that was me)
while this was genuinely well made it never seemed to shirk its air of Slate.com Thinkpiece Opinions that haunt every piece of millennial Relationship Media, and makes it feel less 'timely' than obnoxiously dated. a ‘feminist’ movie that revolves solely around an effortlessly thin and beautiful white woman’s relationships to men, daddy issues, and struggles with the idea of pregnancy (that are reductively summed up via shroom-dream-sequence to some sort of body image issue), trier seems to accurately encapsulate what i hated most about the era of me too filmmaking.
to sum up: *fart noise*