I get tired of reading paternal journalism coining films about feminine stories; with women, about women, by women, as “chick flicks.” They are always dismissed as “chick flicks” as if there was anything wrong with this genre. You’d think this media despised genre was about some small section of society instead of the 51% of the population it aims to attracts.
The term “chick flick” is so ingrained in movie journalism that female journalists, including, yours truly, have coined the term whenever a particularly bad film that just happens to be about women, hits the multiplexes. Yes, I despise the genre that insists that women must find a male mate in order to be happy, or that women must go about their lives within groups of clucking women hens where each female and generation offers some sort of feminine advice to living as a straight woman in modern times. But three out of ten of these movies (if only Hollywood made this many) offer something unique about the feminine condition. As for the other seven, well, these are as bad as the testosterone and gun toting male centered movies that are made in droves. These “dick flicks,” as I like to call them, are violent stories of male egos, hot girls, guns, and explosions. These “dick flicks” start with a gun and end with a gun. As usual, these tedious “dick flicks” are never derided by male journalists and the male centric media, so women have to put up with incredibly awful “dick flicks” and the continued put downs and insults for every intelligent and real story that addresses the female condition.
“Dick flicks.” Despise them.