There are times when I'm just done. This is one of those times.
It was reported this week that Mel Gibson is co-writing and directing a reboot of "The Wild Bunch," Sam Peckinpah's revolutionary 1969 Western. Leaving aside whether we need this movie (we don't) or whether Gibson is a good director (he's not), this is going to kick up the whole "can we separate the art from the artist?" conversation. And you know what? For me, that conversation is over. My answer is no.
The list of men - always men - we're supposed to separate from their art seems to never stop, whether you're going forward or backward in history. And asking viewers - especially women - to separate the man from his movies is to negate a host of women's experiences. It's telling us, again, that what we see and what we feel somehow doesn't count, that what we feel isn't true.
I have never liked Woody Allen's films, because his depiction of women is often creepy and gross. When I've brought that up in the past, I was told that I simply didn't "get" them, that they were an expression of male experience. I got them just fine, thank you, because I have the sense every woman has when something or someone is creepy and gross. It's the superpower we all have thanks to existing in the world.
I steer clear of Roman Polanski films because I simply can't watch them without thinking that the man who made them has been convicted of raping a 13-year-old girl. "But she has forgiven him!" people - usually men - say. And yes, his victim has. Her forgiveness does not change the fact that he RAPED a CHILD.