She Hate Me almost makes me think of a very talented student rushing through in one night to write and present a sloppy thesis on the state of corporate America and male/female relations, and you do feel the spirit and ferocity at times of the same man who made Do the Right Thing. BUT the fact that the man DID make Do the Right Thing makes this all the more of a quagmire of a shmorgesbord. I wanted to give it a chance, despite all of the lambasting from critics, but they are not really that unwarranted. There are a few small things involving the sex scenes (no pun intended, I think) that are noteworthy, but for the most part this is a fiasco that only someone with the temerity, skill, and daring to go as far as this can pull off. There's a flip-side to the coin of ultra talent with auteurs Lee and De Palma and Herzog and Coppola and others, which is that the same life that goes all through an original work can sometimes be crippling if wielded the wrong way. This film just simply tackles way too many ideas into one way too long package, and it's all the more frustrating for the bits that could, in a whole other context, maybe be pulled off with a little more insight and skewering.<br /><br />The two major sides, aside from the side-bars involving familial ties with John Armstrong (Anthony Mackie) and his friend (who has one of the worst plot-strands involving a bad sperm test), are the corporate drudgery and the lesbian impregnations. Guess which one is less credible? Not that Lee and his collaborator really tackle the former side with a lot of gusto or much of anything; Armstrong, the vice president at a pharmaceutical company who doesn't seem to know that there is corruption involving stocks and prices involving a vaccine for AIDS (that, by the way, has a 75% success rate, as if that's a bad thing!), sees a former scientist friend jump to his suicide, and has on a disc all of the juicy details, thus leading to whistle blowing, and being fired from his job. This is when Lee and his collaborator get into the biggest pickle that they can never squirm out of, as up to now they have material that isn't terrific, but has some promise to be developed. But then comes the latter plot-line, involving Armstrong's ex girlfriend (Kerri Washington, who between her character and Dania Ramirez's character are the most infuriatingly simplistic lesbians I've seen depicted recently on film), who will pay to get impregnated by John.<br /><br />This is where the "fun" begins. By fun I mean just pure illogical hijinks meant to be exaggerations, but Lee never makes it really believable about what kind of exaggeration, not once. It might be one thing if only a few of the nearly twenty lesbians Mackie knocks up enjoyed the sex, but ALL of them do. Furthermore, the character is having sex over and over and over again, time and time again on each night. The biggest problem of all, encompassing this big chunk of the picture, aside from it being there to give Armstrong more 'dimension' and to add the whole aspect of the title to it all, is that Lee doesn't know how to balance the satire with the more dramatic points, and worst of all for a satirist the material falls flat and isn't funny. They do try, the women do, to rake up the laughs with their cheesy bed exploits, but it's meshed together into a premise that is so ridiculous to accept that it loses its energy very, very quick. If not for the awesomely bad cartoon sequences involving Armstrong sperm and lesbian eggs, it would be even more excruciating. At the least, for a few moments, there is pure absurdity in the midst of chaos.<br /><br />Throwing into the pot are the usual bits of black/white commentary (the mother of Armstrong being mixed, which wouldn't be an issue except that it is Spike Lee making it one), the Turturro scenes (was this just a favor to put him in another movie?), and a comparison of Armstrong to the man who blew the whistle on the Watergate break-in, not to mention montages involving births and more undercooked slices of Enron-style semantics. And alongside the thematic sloppiness Lee falters stylistically as well, if not as frequently and befuddling as with the substance; some of this looks like it was shot for CBS prime-time mixed with a few touches of the usual color schemes that are Lee trademarks, as well as the oddly up-beat and muzak-like musical score. By the time She Hate Me finishes up, one is privy to so many questions about what just happened that it could fill a small notepad.<br /><br />Maybe it's best to think of it as something the director had to get out of his system, like a mis-begotten Viagra fueled ejaculation ala Armstrong, and could move on to greener creative pastures. All I can say is that if you do proceed, do so with caution, as it's the biggest blunder I've come across so far from his career.