by Shelt Garner
Let me be absolutely clear — I fucking hated Olivia Wilde’s debut movie, “Booksmart.” I was shamed into seeing it by my center-Left media echo chamber and just about the time when they started screeching about lesbian sex positions, I bounce out of the theatre. I went into the movie expecting something akin to Heathers and came out of it shaking my head, disgusted with how woke it was.
Anyway, that’s not the point of this post.
What are we to make of the drama behind the making of Olivia Wilde’s sophomore effort, “Don’t Worry Darling?” This is a very complex situation because of all the different elements of the drama. On one hand, we have the issue of the tension between Wilde and Florence Pugh over not only the casting of Harry Styles, but the rumor that Wilde was so busy banging Styles that Pugh had to pick up the slack of actually directing the movie in the first place.
It’s all very curious. It’s a very weird thing to have happen on a set.
Meanwhile, there is the issue of what the fuck was going on between Wilde and problematic star Shia LaBeouf. He has various credible accusation of sexual misconduct lodged against him — I think one of them is from former girlfriend FKA Twigs — and, yet, despite that, woke Wilde apparently was begging him to star in her movie, the point of calling Pugh, “Aunt Flo.”
It’s all very, very strange. And, yet, if nothing else, here I am writing about a movie I probably won’t see and otherwise would have no interest in. It very much harkens back to the plot of the Julia Roberts vehicle, “America’s Sweetheart.” (I think she was in that movie.)
Anyway, I think if nothing else everyone involved in this clusterfuck has learned a lesson about how maybe we all need a bit more understanding and compassion in our lives.