TELL ME ABOUT JLO'S MOVIE

I have to

Jenny, I just watched Jennifer Lopez’s experimental film/visual album/fever dream, This is Me… Now. For those of you who are able to ignore the celebrity press cycle (couldn’t be me!) this movie— self-financed by JLo— is a multimedia exploration of  her many relationships, marriages and divorces, culminating in her reunion with ex-fiancé, Ben Affleck. I did not expect to cry, but I did. 

I am a longtime, Day One, true-blue Bennifer obsessive. In 2002, when Jen and Ben got engaged for the first time, I went to Claire’s and bought a cheap replica of the pink diamond ring Ben gave her. I was a 24 year-old adult at the time. I enjoyed waving my fake ring around at work, telling everyone I was basically a participant in Jen and Ben’s relationship. (I was like one those crazy royal-watchers who bought QVC knockoffs of Kate Middleton’s sapphire engagement ring, except those people were silly and kind of pathetic whereas I am very stable.)

I get it

What was it about this couple in particular that spoke to me? I think I liked that they were both flawed and grandiose, like a Y2K Taylor and Burton. Jennifer had already been divorced twice at this point, and she was only 33. Ben was a prestige property with that Young Hollywood glow, but he also drank too much and smoked too much and got himself banned from multiple casinos. His ex-girlfriend Gwyneth told Good Morning America that his perfect women would be “any sort of stripper at Scores.” He was an anti-hero. He and Jennifer both were. I could relate to their fuck-ups, the way they both veered so easily into unlikeability. I understood exactly why JLo had dumped a waiter for Puff Daddy, dumped Puff Daddy for her backup dancer, and dumped the dancer for Ben. I understood why she’d lined these guys up like dominoes, making sure to not leave any space between for self-examination. When she married Marc Anthony only five months after breaking off her engagement with Ben, I got it. Smoke ‘em  if you got em.

Ben and Jen were both addicts, and I saw myself in the reflecting pool of their love. When they were engaged the first time, People reported they’d planned a “walk on water” first dance for their wedding (Plexiglass, I imagine). The perfect visual for two people who like what they see in the mirror but are terrified to go deeper. The dance never happened. They broke up, and grew up. So did I.

Antics

Now, all three of us are older, Ben, Jen and me. To my great delight, my favorite couple reunited in 2021, married in 2022, and now, we have this crazy movie, This Is Me… Now, where Jennifer attempts to unpack all of the romantic missteps that led her back into the Marlboro-scented embrace of her beloved. A lot has been written about this movie, much of it snarky. The word “indulgent” pops up a lot in the discourse. I could have predicted that, and I’m sure Jennifer did, too. People say that they want vulnerability in art, but they actually don’t, especially when the artist is a woman. We’re trained to cocoon the truth in toilet paper so no one knows we’re bleeding. We can’t get too excited about love, because we’re supposed to give it, not need it. If you reunite with your soul mate after twenty years, you’re allowed to be happy, but not so happy that you recreate Singin’ in the Rain on Amazon Prime. And of course, you must think of the children…

Totally get it

The whole film is a feast for the senses, but one scene really knocked me on my ass: Jennifer, after cycling through several failed relationships, is confronted by her childhood self on the sidewalk in the Bronx. Little Jen tells Big Jen: “I didn’t get enough love.” As I watched from my couch, this didn’t strike me as a particularly fresh sentiment. Right, yes, family stuff, we get it. Been there, done that, made the co-pay. 

Big Jen affirms my assumption with her response:“From Mom and Dad?” But here’s where Little Jen drops the A-bomb:

“No! From you! You love everyone but me!”

Call me a loser, but this is the part where I started crying. I probably should have seen that line coming, but I spend so much time on Childhood Trauma TikTok that I assume all emotional injury can be traced back to family of origin. I never really thought about the fact that love addicts expend so much fucking energy on loving and pleasing and mirroring other people that they don’t have much left for themselves. And certainly not for the smallest, softest and most ancient part of themselves. I hated myself as a kid. Hated everything that made me different, and I never resolved those feelings. I did an interview a few years back where the journalist asked me if I ever consult my inner child in matters of conscience. My response was something like: “Why would I? She was terrible. I’m a much better person now.”

So basically, Jennifer Lopez spoke directly to me in this film (although I still don’t fully understand the purpose of the Zodiac Council, if I’m being honest. What is Post Malone doing here? Help!) Thanks to JLo, I am now tasked with loving my childhood self, and I also have made it a life goal to buy a circular couch emblazoned with my own logo (just watch the movie.) I’d love to see Ben’s cinematic response but we all know he’s the more private of the pair, the lesser of two Leos. I suspect Jen likes it that way, and I like that for Jen. I get it.