James Wolcott makes a discovery.
I believe I have discovered the sacred text that inspires and animates ferocious, fur-bearing authors such as David Brooks, John Tierney, NRO’s Stanley Kurtz, and Harvey Mansfield–author of Manliness (which gets a rough going-over in next weeks NY Times Book Review by Walter Kirn)–to assert male prerogative and keep women in their proper place, i.e., gazing up adoringly at Daddy. It provides their vision of a future patriarchal society in which the warrior within every man is restored to his lounge-recliner throne.
No, it is not Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, with its bleak futuristic depiction of feminism reversed and women’s wombs held captive.
Indeed, it is not a text at all, but a cult film that illustrates what awaits civilization if it sinks into the abject sissyhood and surrenders to female sovereignty. And the radical hot beef injection that it will take to restore civilization to primitive glory.
C’mon James, the movie had Charlotte Rampling in it! She could reduce David Brooks to a slobbering sycophant with a single smoking glance.
Read the whole thing to find out which movie he is talking about.