#54 ‘MAS*H’ (1970)

War, Wit, and the Weaponization of Misogyny Under the Laugh Track

Robert Altman’s MASH* (1970) is often hailed as an irreverent masterpiece—a dark anti-war comedy that gleefully dismembers the absurdity of military life in Korea (read: Vietnam) with scalpels of satire and a martini in each hand. And yes, it’s loose, chaotic, and formally groundbreaking. But beneath the freewheeling ensemble charm and overlapping dialogue is a film so deeply soaked in casual misogyny and smug self-satisfaction that it becomes hard to tell whether it’s critiquing power—or just laughing along with it.

Our “heroes” are Hawkeye (Donald Sutherland) and Trapper John (Elliott Gould), two wisecracking surgeons who swagger through a mobile army surgical hospital with a steady stream of sexist jokes, pranks, and martinis. They’re brilliant at surgery and absolutely insufferable at everything else—especially when it comes to women, whom they treat like inconvenient background noise unless they’re objectifying them or actively trying to humiliate them.

Let’s talk about Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan (Sally Kellerman), the film’s designated female punching bag. A competent military professional? Sure. A human being? Not according to the script. The moment she tries to assert authority or, God forbid, enforce order in a war zone, she’s targeted for complete psychological demolition. Her sex life is broadcast over a PA system for a cheap laugh. She’s sexually harassed, mocked, and finally rendered ridiculous by a series of pranks that culminate in a scene where she’s exposed in the shower for the amusement of the men—a scene that would be called revenge porn today but was apparently hilarious in 1970.

The film frames her humiliation not as cruelty, but as liberation—as if being stripped of dignity by a bunch of boozed-up man-children is what it takes for a woman to finally loosen up and laugh. The male characters are allowed to be clever, conflicted, even heroic. The women? Props. Punchlines. Breasts with rank.

Yes, the film is making a point about the absurdity of war, about the breakdown of order in the face of trauma. But it’s also making excuses—giving the male characters a free pass to behave like frat boys because the system is broken and they’re “just blowing off steam.” Never mind who gets scorched in the process.

Altman’s direction is sharp and subversive. The overlapping dialogue, the unpolished rhythm, the refusal to stick to traditional structure—all revolutionary at the time. But innovation doesn’t equal integrity. MASH* punches up at military bureaucracy, yes—but it punches sideways and down at anyone who dares not laugh at the boys’ club while they play surgery between dick jokes.

3 out of 5 bloody scalpels
(One for Altman’s craft. One for the ensemble energy. One for daring to mock war during wartime. The missing stars are buried in the camp, somewhere between a shower tent, a misogynist punchline, and the collective denial that cruelty is still cruelty, even when it’s delivered with a wink and a martini.)