Phoebe Waller-Bridge must be destroyed before it’s too late.
The short-bob comedienne fond of wall-breaking and lazy edits has, in very short order, emasculated and destroyed multiple franchises thanks to the overwrought praise for her adaptation of her one-woman show, a descriptor that should itself elicit a bit of vomit in the back of the throat. Not content to politicize Star Wars as an irritating droid in Solo or to chop off the balls of James Bond in Daniel Craig’s swan song whose name no one remembers, Waller-Bridge has now set her sights on a firmly American man to take down: Indiana Jones, whose fifth edition box office she will eradicate in spite of all the goodwill of these United States.
Who is Phoebe Waller-Bridge? What is the reason she exists? How has she come to infect so many franchises? After being offered multiple opportunities — a Mr. and Mrs. Smith reboot, a Tomb Raider redesign, whatever she wants on a silver platter — Waller-Bridge offered exactly nothing. As the Guardian reports: “Waller-Bridge has collected $60 million from Amazon over the last few years without ever making a new show.” Perhaps that’s a good thing — given the laziness of her writing and the ubiquity of her celebrity, it’s better to get paid to do nothing than to be offered more things to ruin for the rest of us.
What Waller-Bridge demonstrates is the level of desperation among executives for any kind of original thought or IP in an age when such things are just purchased as opposed to being invented. Sure, let’s pay the smart-alecky toothsome Brit — she might inject something original in our product! Except of course what she actually brings is an agenda bent on undermining every masculine hero who exists now as a throwback to a defunct and abhorrent age when men were men.
I’ll go out on a limb and predict that Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny will be a gigantic flop. No one wants to see a CGI laden retread of a famous Nazi ass-kicker emasculated by a woman with a modern hairdo who’s smarter and more capable and girlbossing her way through a showdown with timetraveling fascists. Audiences deserve better than this. And the sooner Hollywood yeets this talentless grifter into the bay and moves on from forcing feminist bull down the gullets of an audience that just wants a tough hero who can belt a jackbooted thug in the face, the better we all will be.