The rise of #MeToo and Time’s Up has seen Hollywood take stock of many of the allegedly shitty men in its midst, both those who’ve had new accusations against them come to light, and those who’ve had rumors and whispered allegations swirling around them for years. The latter group is a hefty one, unsurprisingly, including Bryan Singer, Louis CK, and Harvey Weinstein, but the most-discussed out of all of them might still be self-styled #MeToo “poster boy” Woody Allen.
As entertainment culture has finally started to swing in favor of believing people when they state that they were sexually assaulted, any number of prominent stars have had to publicly wrestle with their relationship with Allen, who’s been accused for decades of sexual abuse against his daughter, Dylan Farrow, who reiterated her claims in 2014. People like Ellen Page, Colin Firth, Rebecca Hall, Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig, and more have all said they now regret working with him, with many donating salaries from his recent films to anti-harassment charities and campaigns.
But not good ol’ Javier Bardem! Per The Guardian, the Vicky Cristina Barcelona star issued an aggressive note of support for Allen this week, calling him a “genius,” during a festival masterclass in France, and noting that he’d be happy to work with again at the drop of a hat. Oh, and also, “For now I don’t agree with the public lynching that he’s been receiving.” Oof!
Javier! Buddy! We need to talk. Because regardless of where you fall on Dylan Farrow’s accusations against Allen, which she’s been making, at no profit to herself, for most of her adult life, and which are supported by her brother, Pulitzer-winning journalist Ronan Farrow, it is impossible to accurately describe what has happened to Allen as a “lynching.” “Lynching” is not “protestors show up to yell at you some times.” “Lynching” is not “People don’t want to go see your movie.” “Lynching” is not “the only person willing to support you is Alec Fucking Baldwin.” “Lynching” is when a bunch of people get together and murder you, as in actual, physical murder, in a non-figurative language sense. “Lynching” is a bloody, ugly, disgraceful crime, and you’re usually not allowed to go do a jazz clarinet concert afterward. It’s really not the kind of term that can accurately be applied to the mild inconveniences that have dotted Allen’s incredibly wealthy and successful post-accusation life.
Anyway, stay tuned for the next classic Woody Allen flick, which we can only assume will star Bardem and Baldwin, wondering why they’re apparently the only two people left alive on an otherwise deserted planet Earth.