Noah Berlatsky

At first, this looks like sexism. And then you realize, hey, this is sexism. Hope isn't allowed to do the dangerous job because Pym has put her on a pedestal, and won't let her off it.

While Atwood's feminist dystopia remains our favorite nightmarish future, Marge Piercy's Woman On The Edge Of Time is far superior.

As a white woman, Swift can afford to celebrate carelessness. Beyoncé, though, knows that even her casualness has to be perfect.

According to an Academy Awards voter, the right sort of people, with the right sort of education and connections, can't be racist.

Illicit passions aren't less enjoyable because they're illicit. Quite the contrary.

For once, central character Andrew's flaws are tied up in the fact that he is—wait for it—fundamentally decent.

Rather than seeing Beyoncé's sexual performance as linked to destruction, we can consider whether eroticism might be an alternative to violence.

Bus ads comparing Muslims to Hitler have been replaced with images of a superhero. And not just any superhero.

The surface text of the film is that you can't trust some guys. The (barely) subtext is that you can't trust any guys.

Action movies don't usually bother much with romance. The trailer for The Transporter: Refueled certainly doesn't. The hero is cool — sexy women, plural, throw themselves at him, or at least stand near him and things blow up; there are fights and revenge and high production values. Romance is, at best, a secondary concern.