Kiss of the Spider Woman opened in theaters this past weekend on just 1,300 screens, a modest rollout with minimal promotion. Directed by Bill Condon, the Oscar-winning filmmaker behind Chicago, the musical stars Jennifer Lopez, Diego Luna, and Tonatiuh in its leading roles. The independently financed film, made for a reported $30 million, was later acquired by Roadside Attractions and Lionsgate following a Sundance debut that celebrated its lush, old-Hollywood sensibility.
Yet before audiences even had a chance to buy tickets, Variety had already branded the movie a flop. On October 8, two days before Kiss of the Spider Woman’s official October 10 release, the trade published an article declaring the film a “disastrous kickoff.” Posting such a piece before the movie had even opened wasn’t just premature; it was a choice.
The decision to smear a film and cite it as a failure before it had even been released is questionable, but not surprising when you consider Variety’s recent track record. Earlier this year, the same publication attempted to dampen the success of Ryan Coogler’s horror hit Sinners. In a tweet published during that film’s opening weekend, Variety wrote:
“Sinners has amassed $61 million in its global debut. It’s a great result for an original, R-rated horror film, yet the Warner Bros. release has a $90 million price tag before global marketing expenses, so profitability remains a ways away…..”
The framing was baffling. Sinners had surpassed its initial box office projections of $45 million — a strong, even stellar, opening for an original title, yet Variety chose to emphasize not the success, but how far it supposedly had to go to be “profitable.” After swift backlash on social media, the trade quietly retracted the post.
These moments reveal a troubling pattern: when films are led by people of color, the industry narrative too often skews negative. Success becomes conditional. Achievement is met with caveats. And failure, it seems, is preordained.
While Variety isn’t alone in displaying bias against films with minority leads, it stands out precisely because it’s supposed to be an industry publication, one with a responsibility to approach coverage with professionalism and impartiality. When the New York Post runs a headline like “Jennifer Lopez is enduring an epic string of flops: Awful movies, canceled concerts and more,” the sensationalism is expected. But when Variety, a trade that sets the tone for Hollywood, engages in the same rhetoric, it’s harder to dismiss as coincidence. It feels systemic.
Unsurprisingly, readers noticed. Social media users flooded Variety’s comment sections to call out the preemptive labeling of a Latiné-led film as a “failure” before its release.
How is that a disaster? 1300 is NOT a lot of screens. The hate Variety has for movies with actors of colour needs be investigated. Variety wrote the same negative shit about Sinners. This magazine really hates people of colour.
— OrvilleLloydDouglas🇨🇦🏳️🌈 (@OrvilleLloyd) October 8, 2025
shocked Variety was able to take time from their busy schedule of pushing articles about “AI actress Tilly Norwood” to write this…then again, on brand that they penciled in an opportunity to pan the future numbers of a well-received latino-led LGBTQ film.
— Samu 🦇 Haines (@_samuelha_) October 8, 2025
Then there’s the “JLo factor.”
For over a year, Jennifer Lopez has found herself at the center of an unusually vitriolic cultural moment. Once celebrated as one of Hollywood’s brightest stars. She was the first Latina actress to earn a $1 million paycheck for a movie (Selena), a chart-topping musician, and an enduring fashion icon. Lopez is now being scrutinized with an intensity that feels deeply personal.
Stars rise and fall in Hollywood all the time; it’s part of the ecosystem. But the glee with which the public and media seem to anticipate Lopez’s downfall feels excessive, even cruel. The constant mockery, the clickbait headlines, the memes reveling in her supposed decline all suggest something uglier at play. It’s not just career schadenfreude. It’s a kind of cultural policing, a desire to “put her in her place.”
Would the same tone be applied to a white male counterpart? Would a George Clooney, a Ben Affleck, or a Leonardo DiCaprio be met with this level of collective disdain if their projects underperformed? The answer, unfortunately, seems obvious.
The treatment of Kiss of the Spider Woman and Lopez by extension underscores how differently Hollywood and the media treat artists of color, particularly women. The eagerness to label failure before the facts are in, the reluctance to celebrate success without qualification, and the persistent undercurrent of misogyny and racial bias are all symptoms of a broader industry sickness.
And yet, Lopez remains resilient. She is currently in production on The Last Mrs Parrish for Netflix, based on the bestselling novel of the same name. A rom-com renaissance marking a return to the genre that helped make her a star could easily shift the narrative again. Hollywood, after all, is quick to forget.
But the question remains: how much public vitriol must one woman endure before the industry takes a hard look at itself? When does accountability replace bias?
Because if this past week has shown us anything, it’s that Kiss of the Spider Woman deserved the chance to be seen and Jennifer Lopez deserves far more respect than she’s been given.
