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The Boston Globe


movie review

In ‘Other Woman,’ you go, girl — but where, exactly?

‘The Other Woman” is one of those loud, cringe-y female-empowerment comedies that feels like it was made by people who hate women. It’s about a trio of heroines who free themselves from their three-timing man by obsessing about him constantly and plotting revenge with laxatives in his cocktails and Nair in his shampoo. That the object of their ire is a stick-figure cad will probably add to the movie’s success: Audiences up for an evening of brain-dead entertainment can fill in the blank with whichever man they’re mad at. Better they should get mad at the movie, which paints women as dingbats, dummies, and scolds incapable of drawing a breath without a guy to validate them.

Granted, one of the characters, Carly Whitten (Cameron Diaz), is a power-lawyer of some kind — the camera keeps cutting to her firm’s nameplate — but we never see her do any work. She’s used to playing the field but as she explains to her secretary (pop-rapper Nicky Minaj, having some fun in the sarcastic-best-friend role), her hot and heavy romance with Mark (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) has Carly convinced she has found the one.

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