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15 Woke Movies Where Hollywood Tried To Force Inclusion Down Our Throats

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Ignacio Weil

Entertainment - January 19th 2026, 20:00 GMT+1

Snow White 2025 cropped processed by imagy — Snow White (2025)

The problem isn’t updating an old fairy tale; it’s the way the movie kept telegraphing its updates like it wanted credit before it earned a single feeling. Long before anyone could judge the final product, the rollout turned into a lecture circuit talking points about how the original “needed fixing,” defensive interviews, and a vibe that the film wanted to win an argument more than tell a story. Even the dwarfs debate became a symbol of that approach: instead of making a bold creative choice and standing by it, the project wobbled in public, as if the priority was dodging backlash rather than committing to a coherent vision. In the end, the “modernization” isn’t woven into character; it’s waved around like proof of virtue, and that’s exactly why it reads as performative. | © Walt Disney Pictures

Cropped Madame Web — Madame Web (2024)

You can practically hear the pitch meeting: “Let’s do Spider-adjacent destiny, but make it a female-led ensemble so the marketing writes itself.” The issue is that the movie treats that ensemble like a press-kit idea instead of a group of characters with real voices, real relationships, and real choices. It keeps nudging you to applaud the *concept* four women, big stakes, empowerment vibes while the script does the bare minimum to make anyone feel alive beyond the outline. That’s what makes it feel forced: representation gets used as a shiny wrapper for a thin story, and the film mistakes “being about something” for actually being good. | © Columbia Pictures

The Little Mermaid (2023)

Here’s where Disney stepped on its own rake: casting Halle Bailey as Ariel could’ve been as simple as “she’s great, end of story,” but the whole campaign got dragged into a culture-war spotlight that the movie never fully escaped. Instead of letting the performance speak, the conversation became a referendum on “race-swapping,” and the studio leaned into the noise like controversy was part of the product. Then the remake piled on conspicuous “modern” tweaks lyric edits framed around consent, extra lines designed to signal empowerment, story beats that feel rewritten to pre-answer critics so you’re constantly aware of the *adjustments*. Inclusion isn’t what feels forced; it’s the way the film keeps calling attention to its own good intentions, like it’s asking you to grade the effort instead of getting lost in the romance and the fantasy. | © Walt Disney Pictures

Cropped The Marvels — The Marvels (2023)

Three leads should’ve been a layup: different energies, different corners of the universe, and an easy chance to build a genuine team dynamic. Instead, the movie often plays like a corporate relay race handoffs between brand obligations, continuity maintenance, and “look, we did the thing” representation optics without the connective tissue that makes it feel human. The characters are likable, but the story keeps treating them like pieces in a franchise puzzle, so the “inclusive” part starts reading like another deliverable on a spreadsheet. When you can feel the movie trying to *prove* something instead of simply being something, it stops feeling natural and starts feeling manufactured. | © Marvel Studios

Peter Pan Wendy 2023 cropped processed by imagy — Peter Pan & Wendy (2023)

The updates aren’t inherently the issue; it’s the self-consciousness. The film keeps tightening its grip on the steering wheel as if it’s terrified of being quoted on social media, smoothing edges and rephrasing familiar beats so the story feels risk-managed. Wendy’s re-centering could’ve been energizing, but it’s delivered with a careful, HR-approved tone that drains the mischief out of Neverland. The casting and character reshaping don’t land as organic choices inside a living adventure they land as choices the movie wants you to notice and reward. That’s the trap: when a remake is more focused on looking correct than feeling alive, the wonder is the first thing to die. | © Walt Disney Pictures

The Woman King 2022 cropped processed by imagy — The Woman King (2022)

The marketing wanted a standing ovation before the lights even dimmed, and that’s the first red flag. Instead of letting the drama breathe, the film leans into empowerment-as-branding while sanding down the parts of Dahomey’s history that complicate the hero narrative, which is exactly why the whole thing started to feel like a carefully curated PR sculpture. When a historical epic keeps steering away from inconvenient context, “representation” turns into window dressing for a feel-good angle, not storytelling. You’re left watching a movie that demands praise for its intent while inviting side-eye for how aggressively it controls the conversation around its own message. | © TriStar Pictures

Eternals (2021)

It plays like Marvel assembled a roll call of “firsts” and then tried to build a movie around the press release. The cast is stacked and the representation is broad, but so many introductions feel like the film is checking boxes at speed here’s the identity, here’s the trait, here’s the power before it earns the emotional glue that would make any of it land naturally. The result isn’t inclusion; it’s presentation, and the difference matters. When the characters feel like a lineup more than a family, the movie starts begging for credit it hasn’t earned on the page. | © Marvel Studios

Cropped Wonder Woman 1984 — Wonder Woman 1984 (2020)

A sequel that keeps shouting “girl power” while quietly tripping over its own morals is a special kind of self-own. The movie talks a big game about truth and empowerment, then drags its heroine through plot choices that feel tone-deaf especially the infamous body-swap setup that creates an ethical mess the script barely acknowledges. That disconnect is what makes it feel forced: the film wants the audience to applaud the message, but it doesn’t do the basic story work to make the message coherent. It’s less “feminist blockbuster” and more “motivational poster stapled to a screenplay that forgot to think.” | © Warner Bros. Pictures

Charlies Angels 2019 cropped processed by imagy — Charlie’s Angels (2019)

This reboot didn’t trust the audience to enjoy three capable leads unless it kept nudging them in the ribs about it. The promo campaign leaned hard into the “for girls” framing, and the movie itself sometimes feels like it’s arguing with imaginary critics instead of building clean action, sharp banter, and memorable set pieces. Even the “Bosley is a title” idea plays like a branding tweak meant to signal modernity, not a choice that actually improves the story. It’s a shame, because the cast has the ingredients for a fun, slick crowd-pleaser yet the film keeps chasing applause for the concept instead of delivering the goods. | © Columbia Pictures

Men in Black International — Men in Black: International (2019)

The franchise swap is obvious: new duo, broader scope, and a “fresh start” vibe that feels engineered to look current rather than to feel inspired. The film treats its updated lineup like a substitute for the spark the series used to have, as if diversity and a globe-trotting setup can cover for a script that’s bland, predictable, and weirdly low-energy. That’s where the forced feeling creeps in when the movie sells the *idea* of a modern team more than the chemistry of one. Instead of making the new dynamic irresistible, it keeps banking on the audience to reward the update on principle. | © Columbia Pictures

Cropped terminator dark fate — Terminator: Dark Fate (2019)

From the first trailer onward, the movie practically dared people to react to the gender lineup instead of the actual plot. The story swaps “fear of machines” for “fear of being scolded,” with the marketing and interviews pushing the idea that anyone skeptical must be some flavor of misogynist an incredible way to poison the well before the film even opens. Inside the movie, the new characters aren’t introduced with intrigue or mystery; they’re positioned like symbols you’re supposed to endorse on sight. Linda Hamilton’s return should’ve been the anchor, but the film keeps chasing validation for its “updated” posture instead of letting the drama earn its own weight. The end result is a sequel that feels less like a Terminator movie and more like a lecture delivered at sprint speed. | © Skydance Media

Cropped Oceans 8 Anne Hathaway — Ocean’s 8 (2018)

The heist mechanics are competent, the cast is stacked, and yet the whole package still reeks of “brand idea first, movie second.” It was sold as a headline Ocean’s, but women like that alone was the hook, and the film never fully escapes the feeling that it exists to prove a point about who gets to headline a franchise. Instead of building a new crew with a distinct identity, it leans hard on the novelty of the swap, as if the audience should applaud the concept even when the scenes are running on autopilot. The characters are often sketched in broad strokes, because the movie assumes cool outfits and famous faces will do the heavy lifting. It’s not offensive, it’s just self-satisfied: a studio-friendly victory lap disguised as a caper. | © Warner Bros. Pictures

A Wrinkle in Time 2018 cropped processed by imagy — A Wrinkle in Time (2018)

You can feel the inspirational messaging straining to break through the story like it’s trying to win a poster quote. The film keeps stopping to reassure you about empowerment and self-worth, but it does it in a way that’s oddly impersonal more affirmations than character growth. Even the cosmic spectacle plays like a commercial for big feelings, with dialogue that leans on slogans when it should be earning wonder through specificity and stakes. The casting and the behind-the-scenes significance became part of the pitch, and the movie seems aware of that pressure, reaching for “important” moments instead of letting the fantasy breathe. When inclusion is treated like a shield against criticism, it can start to feel like the audience is being asked to grade intentions rather than the movie on the screen. | © Walt Disney Pictures

Star Wars Episode VIII The Last Jedi 2017 cropped processed by imagy — Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi (2017)

Subversion is fun until it starts feeling like the movie is smirking at its own audience, and that’s the energy that made everything feel forced. The film positions several new beats especially the “listen to your betters” leadership messaging and the casino detour’s finger-wagging tone as if it’s teaching viewers how to think, not inviting them into an adventure. Characters don’t always make choices because the story needs them to; they do it because the script wants to underline a point, then move on before the consequences settle. Meanwhile, the cultural argument around the movie swelled so loudly that it became part of the product, drowning nuance on both sides and turning creative decisions into ideological litmus tests. Representation wasn’t the issue treating the franchise like a megaphone was. | © Lucasfilm Ltd.

Ghostbusters 2016 cropped processed by imagy — Ghostbusters (2016)

Sony didn’t just release a comedy; it launched a culture-war piñata and acted shocked when everyone started swinging. The all-female team was treated like the main selling point, so the conversation became about the casting “statement” instead of whether the jokes landed, and the movie leans into that defensiveness with winks that feel like preemptive rebuttals. The characters often play like sketches rather than people, because the film seems to assume good vibes and improvisation will substitute for structure and escalation. Even when it’s amusing, there’s a weird undertone of self-congratulation like the production wants credit for existing more than it wants to be sharp. It’s the classic forced-inclusion trap: the studio turns representation into a marketing shield, and the movie gets stranded in the crossfire. | © Columbia Pictures

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Hollywood keeps mistaking box-ticking for storytelling, then acts surprised when audiences notice. Some of these movies don’t introduce characters so much as announce them, like the studio is reading a mission statement out loud and calling it entertainment.

What follows is a hall of fame for clumsy “modernization,” where dialogue turns into slogans and identity gets treated like a marketing feature instead of something human. If you’d rather see the opposite done right, we also have a separate piece on movies where inclusion actually feels natural and earned.

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Hollywood keeps mistaking box-ticking for storytelling, then acts surprised when audiences notice. Some of these movies don’t introduce characters so much as announce them, like the studio is reading a mission statement out loud and calling it entertainment.

What follows is a hall of fame for clumsy “modernization,” where dialogue turns into slogans and identity gets treated like a marketing feature instead of something human. If you’d rather see the opposite done right, we also have a separate piece on movies where inclusion actually feels natural and earned.