The only good thing about the mostly overrated Wonder Woman is the slight erection it gave me—slight, I’ll emphasize, not full; my dick has been known to get harder and more impressive, but I’m in a forgiving mood.
Gal Gadot plays Diana, the daughter of Amazon queen Hippolyta, who sculpted her from clay and brought her to life with the help of Zeus; this backstory reminds me of a recurring daydream I used to have in the sweaty, complicated years of my adolescence, in which my neighbor’s hot doll would come to life and show me her vagina.
Gal Gadot is Israeli, which means she’s Jewish, like me, but also tan, and hard to understand, and from a country that could explode at any moment—this reminds me of my own body, and I love that. While Gadot’s boobs aren’t as big as some of us may have hoped they would be (perhaps it might be better in 3D?), she is excellent at playing Diana, who is stupid. Diana’s stupidity in itself was disappointing, but I have to say, sometimes I find satisfaction in disappointment. Isn’t that interesting of me? Diana tries to think, poor thing, but only has questions: Why do men exist? she wonders. Why do they like war? For me, this internal dialogue really missed the mark.
The film has a female director, Patty Jenkins, who fucked up massively when she eliminated the S&M kinkiness that honestly got me out the door to see this film in the first place. (I know I just said that sometimes I like being disappointed, but I want to clarify that I did not mean sexually.) That said, I really did like it when Diana ran around in her little outfit, and by the end of the film, when her face was flushed and she’d finished gabbing about world peace or whatever, I felt this wonderful sense of security, and pride—inside my pants, I still had a semi-solid chub. This might say more about me than it does about this mediocre film that only I am brave enough to critique, but Gal Gadot: I’ll give you a solid “B+”.
It will still take me some effort to reach climax.