I watched the new documentary about Rachel Dolezal with a mounting sense of disbelief that turned to anger, pity, sadness and revulsion, cycling through all these emotions several times. What a piece of work is Rachel Dolezal. And yet in no way deserving of the seething hatred still aimed at her.

The film may be just a Rorschach test that divides people along color lines. I’m not black, so I can’t access the outrage she evinces in that community. I will be shocked if any black viewers decide to cut her any slack. As a white woman, I feel compassion. Because above all else, she is fucking nuts.

The film details her childhood: Evangelical white parents who adopt a bunch of black kids only to beat them like animals. It’s not hard to see why the blonde, dowdy, emotionally abused Rachel would side with the black children. They are literal innocents, and she strives to save them.

Somewhere along the line, she imagines that she’s one of them. That part is the thing that can’t be explained, or, apparently, forgiven. She continues to insist on her blackness to this day, at the same time acknowledging that she was born white. She views her racial “identity” as similar to gender identity – something one can decide, and expect others to respect, or at least accept.

Part of me wants to think, Well, yeah, if I can tell you I’m really a man inside my female body, why can’t I also tell you that I’m black? If it’s simply a case of I am what I feel I am, why is gender okay but not ethnicity? What is so sacred about ethnicity?

How you answer that question makes all the difference.

Putting that aside, there are Rachel’s children, who are clearly suffering from her notoriety. Your heart breaks for them, especially the sensitive 13 year old, whose father is a black man we never meet. Why doesn’t she put her children first and do what’s best for them? Maybe she’s convinced that she is doing what’s best, by standing her ground and not giving in to societal pressure. Or maybe she’s incapable of putting anyone’s needs before her raging exhibitionism and deep psychological wounds.

Then there’s her fucking hair. Oh my god, the hair. In the course of the film, she changes her hair a million times. The knee-length braided extensions underscore her not-Beyonce-ness. But she doesn’t give a fuck. Her hair is like a whole extra character.

When she brings a new baby into the drama swirling around her, it’s hard not to question her motives. And sanity. It seems like the last things she needs, but then we see how much the older kids adore the baby…whose father, naturally, is black.

The most disturbing aspect of this brutal character study is Rachel’s seeming gluttony for abuse and punishment. She continues to court a high social media profile, despite the barrage of hateful comments that attend her every Facebook post and public appearance. Writing a book about herself only stokes the hatred. But she seems baffled by it and stubbornly refuses to back down or apologize.

What’s wrong with Rachel Dolezal? Never underestimate the consequences of sustained child abuse, but this is more.

In her deludedness, she is more heartbreaking than infuriating. And in the end, to me, she is almost worthy of admiration in her strength of purpose. She will not crack. She will not give in, no matter what.

The very last scene is a spoiler that will blow your mind. Once you’ve seen “The Rachel Divide,” a fascinating but draining experience, get back to me and tell me what you think.

When I first heard the premise of The Shape of Water, I immediately thought, “Mrs. Caliban!” Sharing this thought with others, I was forced into an explanation that got me nowhere.

When I read Mrs. Caliban in 1982, I had friends who were reading it as well, and I remember finishing it in one sitting, that’s how compelling it is. At 110 pages, it’s not like I’m bragging. I just don’t see how you could stop once you start.

The shared premise is a woman who falls in love with an amphibian.

I’m not saying that the movie drew from the novella, because there are so many other cinematic and literary instances of inter-species romance. But still. In both cases, the gigantic green creature is everything a woman could long for, especially a lonely woman in a dreary marriage or one who herself feels like a misfit.

I loved the creature in The Shape of Water, who also had an ET thing going for him. His weird gurgles were so poignant! Even though he’s so slimy and fishy, when he stands to his full height and wraps his whatever-they-are around his enthralled love object, he is Cary Grant, and then some.

Mrs. Caliban’s green lover, Larry, is also irresistible.

What is it we want, ladies, that resonates so effectively in the Green Stranger?

Is it the innocence, the purity of purpose, the gentleness? Is it the otherness itself? Or is it that he’s a good listener?

In the movie, he can’t speak. Think about it. No mansplaining. Ever. No criticism! No one to say, “Could you please remember to put the cheese back in the fridge and seal the bag properly?”

Is it the fact that he’s probably never had a woman before you, so you are the best fuck ever? I’m just throwing that out there as I explore this, okay? I already know I’m the best fuck ever, but some people might worry about that kind of thing.

Let’s get back to the listening. A Green Stranger who stares into your eyes and understands you, isn’t bored by you, isn’t checking a device or butting in with his devil’s advocate shit…how good is that?? He is a child, a lover, a protector, a best friend, and he’s able to love with his whole heart.

I am thrilled to report that Mrs. Caliban (by Rachel Ingalls) is now back in print, and a million online reviews are calling it a lost treasure. I didn’t know it was lost, but now it’s back and I think you should read it. After all these year, it remains in my memory like a haunting, glimmering dream. A bonus for completists is that her other books are good, too.

After Kellyanne Conway flashed members of the Black Caucus in the Oval Office, it became clear that only Sharon Stone is qualified to portray her in the movie.

The movie will actually be a 6 episode series on Netflix, with Pee Wee Herman as Reince Priebus and Ellen DeGeneris as Mike Pence. Paris Hilton will co-star as Ivanka, with Adam Levine as Jared “but he’s Jewish!” Kushner.

Lyle Lovett will play Paul Ryan, with the great Orson Wells as Steve Bannon. I know Orson Wells is dead, okay, I’m not an idiot. I’m just saying, dig him up, brush him off just a tiny bit, and voila, a rotting Bannon!

Mickey Rourke stars as The Donald, and has agreed to put on 300 pounds for the role. In her first dramatic role, Caitlyn Jenner will play Melania “not a hooker” Trump.

Racist liar Jeff Sessions has not been cast yet, and all I  can think of when I see his face is the Gerber Baby.

Can you help cast Sessions and the rest of these fuckers, I mean characters?

Thanks!

We have waited patiently for news on the Brad and Angie front, and while there’s no dirt beyond the fake “insiders are saying” stories, here’s something wonderful:

Angelina is in early negotiations to star in the Afghanistan war drama “Shoot Like a Girl,” according to Variety. It’s based on the true story of Maj. Mary Jennings Hegar, who served multiple tours in Afghanistan as a helicopter pilot.

The Purple Heart recipient [ Major Hegar] saved hundreds of men and women on and off the battlefield in the Middle East and later helped eliminate the military’s ground combat exclusion policy, which kept female officers from serving in combat roles.

Hahaha! What is not to love about Angelina Jolie playing a war hero?

How grand that the break-up of her marriage and the emotional needs of her six children did not deter her from engaging in film negotiations.

Remember when she wanted to play Cleopatra? It didn’t work out, because she was nuts, as we learned from the Sony email hack.

Last year, Angie’s company optioned a book about Catherine the Great and her love affair with Potemkin. I guess that one flamed out too.

But there are so many other strong female characters she could play, and should play!

Let’s cross off Mother Theresa, because someone else must have the rights to that. Here’s my list:

Eleanor Roosevelt
Mary Magdalene
Joan of Arc
Nefertiti
Rosa Parks
Josephine Baker
Annie Oakley
Helen Keller

But you know what, why should she be limited to great women? How genderist of me! She could certainly play a male character, that’s why it’s called acting, right?

I’d like to see her play Attila the Hun and Bill Cosby, for example.

Who would you like Angie to play next? *Show your work.

Every time I see an ad for “Sully” I groan and announce that I wouldn’t see it for less than $500.

Five hundred bucks is my customary price for a film that sounds truly awful, at least by my very personal standards.

I’m sure Sully is technically well-made and acted, but who the fuck wants to watch Tom Hanks pretending to be an old man trying to land a plane for an hour and a half?

Challenged by the question of whether I think that Sully really rates as the worst movie out there, I decided to find out what else is big box office this week.

There’s another Blair Witch movie, which I would see for $200. I would close my eyes throughout but I feel this still counts as “seeing” it.

Bridget Jones’ Baby or whatever it’s called, $300. I would keep my eyes open and I would probably regret it. I don’t know who’s in it besides Renee Zellweger but $300 is my price.

There’s also “Snowden.”  I’m gonna say $150, because I don’t want to see it but I’m unaware of anything annoying about it beyond its subject matter.

“Don’t Breathe” sounds too scary for me. I want to breathe. And I don’t like being told what to do. But for $300 I would cover my ears and shut my eyes.

What’s your price for Sully? And what movies have you seen lately without being paid?

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You know how when you’re watching TV and you can’t quite recognize that actor who looks familiar, or you don’t understand what just happened, or a character mumbles something and you didn’t catch it?

So you ask you husband, “Who’s that guy again?” or “Why are they doing that?!” or “What did she say?”

And your husband gets mad because he’s trying to watch the fucking show and you keep interrupting? And instead of answering a simple plot question, he says “WHY DON”T YOU WATCH AND FIND OUT?”

It occurred to me that we need an app for this. If we had an app, we could get the answers to our questions without irritating our husbands and being subjected to their condescending sighs.

The app will be programmed with a database of every movie and tv series in existence and you will just type in the title. Then, you can get the cast, as well as plot points and dialogue, by scene.

Plus, you can do this silently or choose an audio answer in a friendly male voice.

HOW FUCKING HARD WOULD THIS BE, PROGRAMMERS?

Women I’ve talked to about this all share my shame and frustration at needing help just to watch TV, but that’s what it’s come to.

I hate mansplaining as much as the next person, more even, but where does the mansplaining impulse go when you actually need it, eh?

Let’s get the app. First, we need a name for it.

Thoughts?

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I finally got around to seeing The Wolfpack, but I was not prepared for it.

The true story of six brothers, aged 11 to 18, who were imprisoned in their New York apartment by their crazy parents, how could it be anything but dark and disturbing?

Somehow, from the promotional pictures I’d seen, I expected something more ‘quirky’ and lighthearted.

I knew the boys had learned about life from the movies that were their only link to the world outside. They were discovered walking down the street in the lower Eastside, dressed like characters from Reservoir Dogs, by a young filmmaker who ended up making a documentary about them.

Watching the family’s home movies, you see a group of children who are almost like puppies, clinging together with affection and loyalty and in the end, fear.

Fear of their father, a delusional South American devotee of Hindu, who didn’t believe in haircuts or exposure to the ‘poisonous capitalist society’ outside their front door, which he kept locked.

The mother has given up all power to her husband, who doesn’t believe in working but appears to like a drink or three.

The story is also a tale of resilience; the six boys are clearly damaged but somehow thrive. They are smart, sensitive, and loving. They are remarkably curious and life-affirming despite all odds.

But the picture of long-term abuse is just staggering. How does this go on?

It made me wonder how many households are run by little individual Hitlers, making crazy rules that no one has the nerve to disobey. The father here is like a paranoid Charles Manson without the charisma. A total shithead who somehow managed to get an idealistic farm-girl to buy into his delusions and bear him seven children.

The boys have a sister, Krishna, who was born with a disorder that keeps her tied to her parents, evidently.

Free Krishna, somebody!

One thing that startled me during this movie is the intensity of my revulsion for the Dictatorial Father. It is a visceral loathing that I carry around with me, ready to explode. All instances of dictatorial men, in books or movies or in the lives of my friends, trigger a deep antipathy, And by antipathy, I mean I want to kill them.

The Wolfpack father will never have to pay for his actions. All the petty authoritarian husbands and fathers out there will keep getting their way and ruining people’s lives. But why do women let this happen?

My own father left when I was 3 but maybe I’ve blocked out memories of his presence in the home. Or maybe it’s just the injustice of the situation that makes me want to kill these fucking bastards.

Everyone who has a daughter or who is in a position to influence young girls should make a point of teaching them to stand up and say No. Say No and walk away or run away if you have to.

It seems so obvious, and yet we haven’t made it clear.

See this movie for its unique gaze into the heart of darkness or because of the beautiful boys with the long silky hair.

But make sure you pass along the message to never let anyone control you. Ever. No matter what.

Now that Sony has cancelled the release of The Interview, I wonder if there’s anyone on the Sony lot going ‘I told you so!’

When we look back on this debacle, I hope people will view the movie as an egregious exercise in bad taste and hubris on the part of the filmmakers and the studio that gave it a green light.

Everyone on twitter wants to express dismay about caving in to terrorists and about free speech. Aaron Sorkin has called media outlets that published the leaks ‘guilty of moral treason’ and Judd Apatow says it’s a dark day for creative expression. Rob Lowe says, ‘Wow. Everyone caved. The hackers won. Wow.’

Do you think this stupid movie is like the twin towers? Or the constitution? Does everyone have the right to make a $40 million movie that makes fun of assassinating a current world leader? What if another country made a comedy about assassinating Obama? I’m going to be on the fucking NSA watch list just for typing that!

A dear friend once wrote a play called ‘Let’s Kill The President!’ knowing that it was going to be guerrilla theater, and that was part of the concept. But he didn’t expect it to play internationally or to get forty million bucks for his joke.

I don’t like Seth Rogan or James Franco and now I like them less. Everyone who decries the freedom of speech they have been denied in the cancellation of this stupid movie should come out and publicly ridicule the prophet Mohammed.

And you know why they wont? Because they don’t want to get killed or have a fucking fatwa put on them! They like their freedom but they recognize a threat where it exists. Why didn’t Sony have the brains to recognize that North Korea represents an ongoing legitimate threat? Why didn’t the State Department weigh in on this earlier?

You can read the early reviews for The Interview on Rotten Tomatoes, but here’s a teaser:

It essentially uses a major global issue to cheaply dress up what is two hours of hit-and-miss erection jokes.

Okay, so you’re thinking, “It’s not the point whether the movie’s a piece of shit, bla bla bla!” but that aspect is not irrelevant.

I would defend an artist’s right to make art, even bad art. But anus jokes aren’t worth dying for or even protesting about. Fuck everybody involved and the horses they rode in on, capitalist pigs one and all.

Thoughts?

Everywhere I go online today, there is shit about Fifty Shades of Grey. I guess there’s a new trailer out, or maybe it’s the first trailer.

I can’t tell you how good it feels to not be interested in this trailer! Not only am I not interested in the trailer, I am not interested in reactions to the trailer!

I can’t wait to not see the actual movie., just as I couldn’t wait to not read the book or learn anything about its author. I admit to having a perverse fondness for really bad writing, and the few excerpts I saw were weapons-grade awful. So kudos to whatshername who wrote it.

Who would like to join me in taking a pledge to not watch this trailer? Maybe we can come up with a badge or membership card or something.

The state of pop culture is so abysmal that it may seem pointless to single out one offender as being too base or stupid to countenance. But I’m drawing my line anyway.

Big deal about bondage, S&M, doms and subs. Just don’t bother me with fifty shades of anything unless it’s red lipstick.

How much would it take to get you to see The Butler? For me, $500.

Before you answer, remember, it even has Robin Williams!

State your price.