Gigli (2003)

dir. Martin Brest

Obviously, Gigli is disgusting. Jennifer Lopez playing a lesbian character who winds up so enamoured with Ben Affleck’s mobster charms that she turns straight for him? It’s an insult. Especially when the supposed sexy chemistry is conveyed by moments such as Lopez spreading her legs and whispering “It’s turkey time – gobble gobble”. In addition, we have a character repeatedly bleating his insistence on going to “the Baywatch”. He’s supposed to be neurodivergent, which is a hideously basic caricature in itself, and his obsession with seeing scantily clad women is always portrayed as delightfully endearing, rather than anyone taking a single solitary second to challenge it. But beyond the audacity of treating women like malleable playthings for whichever man happens to be around, Gigli is just dull. It doesn’t really know what it’s doing, and meanders from scene to scene with tired attempts to shock. Murder! Sex! Attempted suicide! For two straight hours. Straight, because that’s what Gigli insists on, after all.

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