Avis Metacritic

It’s a wild romp with all the campy noir you might expect in a film by the father of queercore.

As in many of his films, The Misandrists finds the oppressed themselves oppressing others, a warning among all the dizzy outrageousness.

With The Misandrists, Mr. LaBruce announces, here is queer cinema: confrontational, pansexual, gender-fluid, racially inclusive, angry and surprisingly romantic.

This plot sounds like “The Beguiled,” right? Trust me, this movie is NOTHING like “The Beguiled,” For one thing, it’s not nearly as plot-driven.

At times, it seems like a parody of itself but manages to beguile while it sermonizes.

Misandrists is a diverting bad-taste frolic for the sufficiently jaded.

At first, there's a certain cheesy charm to the Eurotrash '70s aesthetic, with a cast of minimally skilled actors spouting lines like, "Young lady, have you seen anything queer in the area?" But any resemblance to a coherent thesis is purely coincidental.

The one-liners just kind of lie there. The movie’s many make-out scenes do what they do in most exploitation films, they stop the movie cold.

The sexual outbursts in the film are tempered with a tenderness that one hardly associates with Bruce LaBruce's career.

In the end, the only transgression The Misandrists really commits is self-satisfied solipsism.