Well, that was painful.
Look, I know Supernatural is not trying to be the most self-aware, progressive show on the air. It’s about two handsome white guys heroically fighting monsters and demons and all things supernatural all over the US, roaring around in their gas-guzzling classic muscle car and listening to classic rock while swathed in denim and plaid. There are lots of guns and bullets. There is punching (sometimes of each other.) There is porn. The sex is of the casual, one-night-stand variety, usually.
The women in the show are, if not the monster, usually superficial side characters who are damsels to be saved, victims who are burned or eaten by the monster, brief motherly figures, fawning fangirls or daffy cat lady witnesses relating what they saw for comic relief.
There are occasional egregious wardrobe choices for the women, like the lovely young female hunter a couple of episodes ago in daisy dukes and a short shirt, while the men are swathed in five shirts each, plus a jacket.
But yes, I still watch. I am able to ignore most of the yucky treatment of women because the two main characters are compelling and the show is often a good creepy, gory hour of escapist television. Continue reading “Supernatural, episode 9.08. Not cool.”