You know what drove me crazy while watching The Beguiled? It’s total whiteness. No, not the whiteness of all the characters. No, not the exterior whiteness of the massive mansion all the horny white women were living in. No, it was the whiteness of all their clothes, homecoming dress stores in chicago dresses , corsets, faces, sheets, table cloths, walls. It was as if the elves normally working for the shoemakers left for better jobs laundering 24/7 all the linens, painting the walls, securing just the right ma ... ke up and candle lightings for this group of lost in time females. If this movie were any whiter, Sherwin Williams could use it as color snap.

This script felt as if it was written by Jeff Sessions in a dream state. Three plus years into the worst war in our history, so close to the Union lines you could smell the cheap whiskey on Grant’s breath, yet this home for future debutantes apparently has enough food to throw Marie Antoinette dinners, can function perfectly well without the help of any slaves, and has enough Clorox available to clean even the worst of soil stains and bodily fluids. Not one of these virgins thinks about suicide, and I’m lost in translation how not a single piece of dialogue truly relates to that peculiar institution we call slavery. Albert Maltz deserves better.