Why does Vincent Gallo hate women?

The Brown Bunny is known for two things… driving sequences and the infamous scene in which Chloe Sevigny graces Vincent Gallo with oral sex. Critics hated it as well as most viewers and it is widely considered the worst movie ever to have been accepted into the prestigious Cannes Film Festival. This is the movie that prompted renowned movie critic Roger Ebert to claim that his colonoscopy was more entertaining. It was the morbidly curious kid in me that made me rent it, although I fully expected to hate it. The weird thing is that I actually understood exactly what it was about… loneliness. The first hour of the movie is an artistic expression of said emotion and it conveys it extremely well. Filmmaking is an art form which has been exploited by greedy, patently inartistic men and therefore most movies are made exclusively to make money and nothing more. The Brown Bunny is an art film, and like great pieces of art it skews entertainment value in favor of transmitting sentiment. As a fervent disparager of Gallo’s misogynistic films (exemplified by Buffalo 66) I found myself quite shocked that I was appreciating The Brown Bunny, but at the one hour mark it all fell apart. The hypnotic spell that had meticulously (purposeful or accidental) been cast was absolutely shattered by deus ex machine, a cheap plot devise in which a person or thing appears out-of-the-blue to help a character overcome an apparently insolvable difficulty. Although Daisy is mentioned throughout the first hour her appearance is no less enigmatic and only seems to spur Gallo toward two tacky, gratuitously explicit scenes that completely obliterate any and all artistic merit the film had. And once again Gallo’s misogynistic tendency rears its ugly head. What was building up to become a near perfect conveyance of self-imposed seclusion is utterly ruined by inscrutable moments of unnecessary contrivance. Most people are not going to like this movie anyway, there is barely any dialogue and no action set-pieces, but art-house audiences aren’t going to like it either. Unlike other sexually explicit films like Shortbus and David Cronenberg’s Crash in which the sex is actually pivotal to character development and plot, the sex here is just an unpleasant indulgence and one more example of Vincent Gallo’s narcissistic misogyny. It would be one thing if his films were critical examinations of these crude masculine traits but they aren’t. The worst part of Gallo’s incessant love affair with the sexist denigration of women is nearly amusing considering his effeminate demeanor and shrill, girly voice. Perhaps that is the deeply seeded reason for his anti-women films right there, I don’t know. One thing I do know for sure is that if he’s behind the camera I’m staying far away from that movie.