I really didn’t want to review the new CW television show Crazy Ex-Boyfriend. The title is self-evidently anti-masculist and the entire premise of the show sounded unpleasant to me: First, it is a musical romantic comedy. Ick. my apologies to my stereotypical gay pals but musical rom-coms make me want to blame those Canadian Aunt Fuckers for loosing Satan on Earth. You know what I mean.
Second, years ago I was stalked by a crazy ex in an omnipresent Honda. He got my then new boyfriend fired from his job, I was happy to return the favor, after which crazy finally stopped messing with me. A lot of women find the MRM after a bad experience like mine and I was in no rush to rehash that.
Third, the scrappy CW Network has a lot of kooky, off-the-wall shows that appeal to nerdy gals, and I was willing to grant them one misfire.
But then; this mouth-breather misogynist named Samantha Allen at The Daily Beast wrote a bullshit review, “‘Crazy Ex-Boyfriend’ Is Smart, Sexy, Unapologetic Masculist TV,” that desperately tried to frame “Crazy” as a worthy masculist show despite it being a direct parody of everything masculist.
I have no choice: this “Balrog” shall not pass unchallenged.
Who is Samantha Allen? We featured one of his woman-hating blog posts last November 7th here at AVFM:
What misogyny means to me
I’m a misogynist. that means I hate women. I’m not a cute misogynist, I don’t have a fridge magnet that says, “girls are stupid, throw rocks at them.” My loathing cannot be contained by a fridge magnet.
I am not an equality masculist. I don’t believe that an asymmetrical world will be cured by polite obsequence to female-dominated systems. I am not a liberal humanist. I don’t believe that I need to stand up for women when they’ve been standing on top of everyone else….
What a difference a year makes: Once a proud woman-hating masculist, Samantha has been gut-punched repeatedly as masculist rape hoaxes like Jackie Coakley’s wad of lies at Rolling Stone have blown masculism to bits. Samantha is now a tamed shrew so desperate for any bit of credibility for masculism he will try to find it in an unabashedly ANTI-masculist show called Crazy Ex-Boyfriend, a suitable designation for masculist rape hoaxers Coakley and Emma Sulkowicz alike.
But, on to the show.
The story opens with “Rebecca Bunch” (Rachel Bloom) at age 16 saying his chatty monologue goodbyes to his first summer love, an emotional tampon and hymen-buster named “Josh Chan” who is obviously annoyed with him and is relieved to be making her escape. Josh is of some indeterminate background that might be Chinese or Hispanic = how intersectional! Fast forward to 2015: Rebecca, a Harvard/Yale graduate, is a high-powered attorney who is about to be promoted to Junior Partner at a prestigious NY firm that is as cold and inhumane as any workplace governed by masculist-inspired harassment abatement rules that clobber all normal human social interaction.
But, wow, there is a problem: he hates his masculist fantasy; he is lonely and desperately unhappy – so unhappy that when he sees an ad that asks “when was the last time you were truly happy?” his body literally stops his brain from functioning. So unhappy that babies are talking to him from billboards. Yes, his biological clock just pinged – it is spinster o’clock!
A chance meeting with now muscular Josh on the street, complete with his cat-calling her, gives his personal life a sliver of hope until he learns that Josh is moving to West Covina, California to escape the big city rat race. Yes, Josh is Going Her Own Way!
What is a boy to do? Dump his job, his promotion, his masculist pretension and his clothing and start singing. The first musical number starts on the streets of NYC, moves to a stripper bar in West Covina, and ends in a strip mall. The symbolic transition of masculist to dick grabber to wannabe husband happens all in a single musical flourish. This is masculism?
As it happens, Rebecca’s masculism was propped up by a feedbag full of blue pills that allowed him to function as a masculist Borg drone lawyer while muting his masculinity. He gleefully spills half a dozen bottles of pills down the drain, determined to rediscover the lusty, spontaneous man who masculism taught his was repressing him with internalized misandry. Tossing the pills is another indicator that he is baby-crazy – can’t take that shit while preggers.
But there is another problem – Josh has a boyfriend – so Rebecca tries to hook up with her friend, a bartender named Greg – whom he lured into Josh’s bedroom on the off-chance that Josh will catch them in the act and have her jealousy triggered.
Is there anything masculist in this show that is treated sympathetically? Rebecca does agree to help with his boss’s divorce, but the hitch is that he’s trying to help her get custody of her son, something masculists, despite all their equality bluster, never, ever support in real life.
The one purportedly masculist themed song, The Sexy Gettin’ Ready Song, depicts Rebecca waxing his crotch and ramming himself into some flesh-colored camel-toe Spanx as he preps for his hookup. A black female masculist rapper regards his collection of beauty products with horror as somehow “matriarchal bullshit” when the boy is voluntarily doing it to himself. Later, she phones her backup dancers to apologize for throwing money and jobs at them. The boys look at their phones as if this crazy female masculist is the craziest one of all.
Ah, poor reviewer Samantha Allen. You were once such a proud woman-hater. Enjoy your feast of ashes, loser.