‘She Said’ Review: Dull, Dumb, Dishonest Comfort Porn for Shallow Leftists

You know what you’re in for with director Maria Schrader’s stillborn She Said when the movie opens with a woman accusing former President Donald Trump of sexual harassment and then moves on to score points against Bill O’Reilly and Fox News. Somehow the legions of Democrats in media, politics, and Hollywood credibly accused of inappropriate behavior earn a total pass.

If that’s not bad enough, the dull, tedious, repetitive She Said never once mentions the fact Harvey Weinstein was a top Democrat donor and friend of the Clintons. His politics and the politics of his powerful enablers enjoy a sweet, sweet whitewash.

Clinton pal Jeffrey Epstein? Nope.

Rapey Bill Clinton? Nope.

Unlike Todd Field’s Tár, which approached the #MeToo movement with nuance, intelligence, and artistry, She Said fails on every front, and when it’s all over, you feel as though you’ve watched a bad TV movie.

We’re told She Said tells the true story of New York Times reporters Jodi Kantor (Zoe Kazan) and Megan Twohey (Carey Mulligan) nailing down the Weinstein story. Considering all the lies the Times has told over the years, especially the disgraced outlet’s role in pushing the Russia Collusion Hoax, there’s no way to know if anything’s true. What we do know is that She Said is about as dramatically exciting as watching someone mow a lawn.

Oh, and the stupidity… She Said is so dumb that immediately after one of Kantor’s sources says he’s terrified to talk to anyone — “Are you trying to get me killed?!?” he asks — the two of them sit down in a restaurant next to a picture window that looks out on the street. They meet twice more. Both times in a restaurant. Both times near a window. Oh, yeah, we’re a long way from Deep Throat meeting Robert Redford’s Bob Woodward in a parking garage. In fact, every comparison to All the President’s Men (1976) or Erin Brockovich (2000) reminds us of She Said’s unending flaws.

Mulligan and Kazan are no Redford and Dustin Hoffman. Not even close. If you want to make a movie about reporters running around talking to people, you might want to hire Movie Stars. You might want to look for actresses with just a dollop of charisma. Mulligan and Twohey might be fine actresses, but they create a charisma-free zone that makes for a long 129-minute haul.

Another HUGE problem is the sisterhood theme. All the ladies get along, support one another, are there for each other, compliment and hug and listen, and ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz.

Where’s the tension?

Where’s the conflict?

Where’s the character growth?

The newsroom battles are one of the timeless joys of All the President’s Men. The prickly relationship between smart and flawed people like Hoffman’s Carl Bernstein and Redford’s Woodward add sparks and subtext to their scenes. Throw in Oscar-winner Jason Robards as Ben Bradlee, their skeptical, cynical, no-BS boss, and you had one dynamite moment after another. There’s none of that in She Said. Here the boss is Rebecca Corbett (a wasted Patricia Clarkson), who’s more den mother than editor. No arguments, disagreements, angling for credit, skepticism, or impatience. Only boring, one-dimensional sisterhood.

Worse still, Twohey and Kantor are Mary Sues. They immediately get along, so there’s never any growth in their relationship. They never make mistakes or look foolish. Both are competent, confident, determined, brave, honest, righteous, and hard-working. One of the primary reasons characters and the relationships between those characters are supposed to evolve over the course of a story is not because IT’S A SCREENWRITING RULE but because if that evolution doesn’t occur, the movie becomes repetitive and tedious. Every scene feels like the previous scene. Maybe Twohey, Kantor, and Corbett really are flawless and did get along that well in real life…

So what?

This is a movie.

Movies require drama, conflict, tension, and character growth.

But the Woke Gestapo demands sisterhood, so no drama for us.

Rest assured, though, that every box is checked to lecture us about how difficult it is to be a woman.

Post-partum depression – check.

Breast cancer – check.

Guys hitting on them in a bar – check.

Sexless, cucky, emasculated husbands who cook, babysit and listen – check.

The scene in the bar is supposed to be a cheer moment. This guy comes over to say hello. Twohey tells him that she and her companions are not interested. He persists a little. She freaks out and starts screaming F-words—which proved she did need to get laid.

There’s no humor in She Said. None. The issue is too serious. So instead, it’s one repetitive scene after another of Mulligan and Kazan supporting each other and trying to get Weinstein’s victims to go on the record.

By the way, Ashley Judd plays Ashley Judd in She Said. Yes, she plays herself as the heroine of her own story. There’s something unseemly about watching the privileged pat themselves on the back like this. The fact that Judd would go on to exploit her “heroism” by co-founding the disgraced and now defunct Time’s Up — an organization that aided Democrat men accused of sexual harassment to discredit their alleged victims — is conveniently whitewashed.

Also whitewashed is the fact that nothing’s changed, not even at the New York Times. Powerful men, like Joe Biden, who hold the correct left-wing political ideas, are still protected and shielded by the New York Times. Ask Tara Reade about how much has changed post-Weinstein. What’s more, here we sit, five years after the fall of Harvey Weinstein, and Jeffrey Epstein’s client list (which we know is mostly Democrats and leftists in media and entertainment) is covered up in the hope the public will forget. And don’t get me started on how Democrats are openly grooming kids (too young to consent) using drag queens and gay porn.

Politics and dishonesty aside, She Said is dumb, dramatically inert, and populated with dull characters, dull dialogue, and dull scenes.

The only moment that felt real is when Dean Baquet (Andre Braugher) said, “I have other things to do.”

He spoke for us all.

Follow John Nolte on Twitter @NolteNC. Follow his Facebook Page here.