Nude Scene Extravaganza
Gwyneth Paltrow
written by B on October 25, 2025

Like the mighty Anseriformes and Jodie Foster before her, Gwyneth's winged migration from unknown starlet to Hollywood A-lister has been full of acclaim, beauty, and really long tracking shots where we watch her fly past the twin towers. She follows in the footsteps of her mother, respected television and film actress Blythe Danner, and her father, A GIANT SQUAWKING CONDOR.

Truth be told, Gwyneth got her looks from her mother. If you look at early pictures of Blythe Danner the resemblance is scary, right down to the protruding bone structure. But I'm not even going to go there with Blythe. That's like making fun of Jesus. You know what the only difference is between making fun of Jesus and Blythe Danner's thigh bone? One is a blasphemer, and the other is Blythe's femur.

Paltrow made her debut in the movie "Shout" (doing John Travolta's laundry) but made her REAL debut in Steven Spielberg's "Hook" as Young Wendy, and I have hated hated HATED her ever since. It's not that she's a bad actress, because she isn't, really. When she's an American, at least. The problem is that she's British about 60% of the time, and I expect more out of my British actresses. I want them to be skilled. I want Emma Thompson randomly bursting into tears about something. I want British actors to stumble around with a turkey on their head. This is the fundamental difference. Gwyneth is often going for tears but getting turkey. If you don't understand my allegory, consider Keira Knightley. When you watch her act, do you want to eat stuffing out of her face? Well, there you go.

I did a few of these Nude Scene Extravaganzas at Whatever-Dude.com (Angelina Jolie, Kate Winslet, the Women of View Askew, Andy Griffith) and Emily has taken a (butt) crack at one here, but it's been a long time since I developed such a distaste for repeatedly seeing someone naked that I felt the need to speak about it publicly. I don't like seeing Ashley Judd naked. It looks like Royal Tenenbaum shot her a bunch of times in the spine with a BB gun. I see Sharon Stone naked almost every time I see Sharon Stone. Her flagrance helped me indirectly understand that "nice beaver" joke in "The Naked Gun." Neither disgust nor frequency alone makes a subject suitable for the Extravaganza.

No, it's the Blythe Danner being fucked by a giant bird joke that makes a subject suitable for the Extravaganza.

There is a uniquely male aspect to modern puberty that girls don't really know about, or care to. This is our quest for masturbation. Sure, you run into boys who masturbate at suggestive rock formations, but the lot of us get focused on something we see or hear about and seek that out in the way we should've probably just been seeking out actual girls.

The rub (ho ho) comes when you visit a video store and rent a movie solely because you know somebody starring in said movie is specifically naked. Breasts are breasts, but HER breasts are important. No matter who it is. If you rent a movie with Melody from Hey Dude getting freaky in it ("Night of the Demons 2," cough cough) you want to see Melody from Hey Dude getting freaky. You don't want to see Frances the Titty Model going "oh YEAH oh YEAH." You want that specificity. You'll stop fast forwarding when you see boobs because you don't want to miss Melody, but you don't ever stay long. They live behind the static. These women exist like a perverse Ishmael Chambers, snow falling on peters.

I rented the movie "Flesh and Bone" because I wanted to see Meg Ryan naked. I don't know why, don't ask me. I was thirteen and my celebrity frame of reference was "cute girls who have been in movies I could watch." It was either this or "The Doors," and I wasn't about to sit through two hours of organ solos, even in fast forward. I only wanted about ten minutes of organ solo, a joke about me being awkward. So I'm fast forwarding and there's this girl going through a suitcase in her chest-and-drawers, and I stop.

You want to know why? Because my Grandfather had that exact same fucking forest painting hanging in his living room for my entire childhood. I could recognize it if I was blindfolded. It was the BobRossian backdrop to those pre and post-Flesh and Blood Christmas mornings spent staring at it while Pop demanded we all shut up and listen to my retarded seven year old cousin stammer and meander his way through 'Twas the Night Before Christmas and the birth of Christ. TWAS...TWAS... IT WASSSS THE NI NIGHT BE BE BAFORE CH CHRISMAAAAS AN AN AN AN AWL TREW A HOOOOOUSE... I wanted to pull a fucking Wishbone and dive into that painting, because even a chilly Appalachian winter's day face down in stale leaves would be better than a room full of Virginia hill-people trying to explain to a kid lacking even basic capacities for deductive thought what Frankincense is. IT'S LIKE THE MONSTER NOW MOVE ON.

Oh, and Meg Ryan? Somebody glued a big Raisinet to Dennis Quaid's arm. At least that's what it looked like. No wonder she has to fake orgasms all the time.

A couple of years later Paltrow had starred in the movie "Se7en," a dark and brooding psychological thriller about Kevin Spacey's desire to get all smarmy about the seven deadly sins. "SeSevenEn" was basically Paltrow's big break, casting her in the public eye as Brad Pitt's girlfriend and celebrity-coupled other-half. Now seeing her naked in a movie constitutes the Big Deal™, even though at the end of this movie she totally gives Brad Pitt head.

Although technically it's actually Spacey GIVING the head to Pitt, which oddly makes more sense in retrospect. This classic movie ending joins Paltrow's character being beaten to death by a rapist in "Malice" and her character being struck by a truck while her leg is caught in nefarious "Sliding Doors" as one of my favorite Gwyneth Paltrow scenes of all time. Afterwards Morgan Freeman uses his Christ powers to ominously narrate and is rewarded for doing so for the rest of his life.

Shortly after their coupling, Papa Razzi tore their hearts open and sewed themselves shut when nude, pool-side photos of Paltrow and BOY TOY Brad Pitt showed up in papers and on the Internet. The PIX show Pitt GALLIVANTING with his GAL PAL. Almost immediately Entertainment Tonight correspondent Steven Cojocaru rocketed into space. He is survived by his daughter, who is pawing pathetically at NASA monitors.

We learn a couple of things from carefully observing these photos.

Thing one, Brad Pitt is the gay kind of muscular. I watch a lot of professional wrestling so I can tell you the difference. There are some guys who work out for strength and health. There are some guys who work out to look good. I'm starting to think Brad Pitt time travels while doing sit-ups. It's ridiculous. The man could irrigate the fertile crescent with the ridges in his torso. It's like Abdullah the Butcher's forehead. When you are able to carry around spare change in your belly, from too much definition or too much flab, you have reached an extreme and should turn back. Maybe that's why Pitt's always wearing the hobo beard. He's gone mad, like Kang the Conqueror.

Thing two, Gwyneth Paltrow's drapes do not match her carpet, and despite having some nice drapes she has floored her home with gothic shag. She looks like a fucked up piece of laffy taffy here. I think I could play the upright bass on her stomach. And look at that pelvis! Her body is like a great big arrow pointing down to Hell.

Before I get off on a tangent for this next part, I just want to come out and say that Ethan Hawke is the worst reader alive. He can't seem to understand sentences. He reads something like Hamlet and says LET'S REIMAGINE THIS IN THE VIDEO STORE. He reads Great Expectations and says THIS BOOK IS ALL ABOUT FUCKING. I have no idea what goes on in his head, besides a lot of drugs, the deep ignorance it takes for you to cheat on Uma Thurman, and "My Sharona" playing on loop.

Anyway, Gwyneth next gets naked in "Great Expectations," a modernization of Charles Dickens' verbose classic about two sexy twenty-somethings making out at a water fountain in Central Park. Dickens wrote about this theme a lot. In "The Pickwick Papers" the last half of the book is just a big fat black lady in leopard-print lingerie putting her mouth all over the faucet. The character of Pip (you know, the PROTAGONIST) is replaced by "Finnegan," who takes time away from his ECW refereeing duties to pursue his unrequited and haughty childhood love in Boho New York City.

Other major changes to the story see Miss Havisham replaced by Eric Bischoff's sister Ms. Nora Dinsmoor, a scene where Ethan Hawke tears his shirt and screams ESTELLAAAAAAAA, and the old cake is replaced by a very dark-skinned transvestite doing vogue.

Paltrow's attractiveness here subjectively lies in your own desire or lack thereof to see a nude woman usurping the powers of Dracula. I was made uncomfortable by the thought of a woman morphing into myst until I remembered how hard it was. That got me back into it. Hawke spends the movie painting Estella nude because director Alfonso Cuaron is Mexican and too lazy to read the God damned book.

Gwyneth followed up THAT hit with the movie "Hush," a story about Paltrow's character getting everyone together to kill Batman. "Hush" does not show her "Puppies," but we do get an extended look at her bare ass.

And for some reason Amy Smart is playing her role here. I'm tempted to say that Paltrow's got a nice butt here, but just about anybody's going to have a nice butt when they cock their knee up like that. It completes the natural aesthetic motion of the ass. Like the stroke of a paint brush. Then I look at a picture like this...

...and she looks like one big leg.

Afterwards, Paltrow "got a leg up" and filmed "A Perfect Murder" with Viggo Mortenson, one of the most unnecessary titles ever, because CLEARLY there wouldn't be so much drama if the murder was "perfect," and because how "perfect" does "murder" have to be? If you've killed them, you've pretty much done murder as well as you can.

Her most celebrated nudity came in dick-face as she expertly pulled off the role of a man in William Shakespeare's "Shakespeare in Love." In this timeless tale, the Bard weaves the majesty of Ben Affleck with the sweeping mysticism of hyper-irony. Did you know that Shakespeare's plays were actually BASED on EXPERIENCES? COME WITH ME INTO THIS MAGICAL REALM OF UNDERSTANDING. Chaucer is here, he's going to help you learn to joust.

One of the things I like about this movie's sex scene is the idea that to hide her femininity, Viola De Lesseps has bound her breasts. That's one of the key steps to hiding the ten-year old boy physique underneath fifteen layers of Victorian clothes. Some tape, right across the boobies. Viola puts on a Dutch boy wig, draws a Rollie Fingers mustache on her face in magic marker, and VIOLA, she fools everyone in England.

Everyone except for Shakespeare of course, who is IN LOVE. So he does the purest movie sex to her, getting each other naked, laying stomach to stomach, and rolling the covers into a big snowball around you. People are always doing that in movies. I'm not Ron Jeremy over here but I've had enough sex to know that it's the lower body motion and not ridiculous chest bumping that makes intercourse work. You have to thrust the penis into the vagina. There's no rolling. Unless you're a raver, so given Shakespeare's predilection for fairies and ass-faces I might just be totally wrong here.

"Shakespeare in Love" won Paltrow enough Superstar Points that she was moved into the main-event and won an Oscar, an award named after something that lives in a trash can. She could now star in a string of films while fully clothed, including:

- "Duets," a movie where she wants to have sex with Huey Lewis (sans News), finds out he's actually her father, and then still seems like she kinda wants to have sex with him.

- A movie about an airplane crash called "Bounce," which I guess it didn't.

- "The Mysterious Good-willed Yearning Secretive Sad Lonely Math-Doing Troubled Confused Loving Vickahs-Reading Musical Gifted Apple-Loving Intelligent Beautiful Tender Minnie-Driving Sensitive Haunted A Joke About Good Will Hunting The Film Passionate Talented Mr. Ripley"

- "Shallow Hal," an art project in which the Farrelly Brothers make fat jokes for 89 minutes before introducing something mildly kindhearted in the 90th minute to see how many people will excuse the entire wretched exercise.

- A cameo in "Austin Powers in Goldmember" as "Dixie Normous," a super spy with hilarious catchphrases like "YEAH" and "YEAH BABY" and "COCK IT TO ME." She stars in a fictitious movie within the movie called "Austinpussy," and if what I've heard is correct, Austin pussy was always kinda asking for a beating.

- "Possession," a movie I am taking John Lennon's advice on by trying to imagine that it doesn't exist.

- "View from the Top," a movie that puts the wrong "em-FASS-iss" on expecting me to go see it.

And then, as though instinctively called back by her gigantic, monstrous bird DNA, Paltrow returned to what she does best: Uncomfortably filling the screen with parts of her.

Sylvia Plath's vagina was silver and exact; it had no preconceptions. So it makes sense that if you're devoting a multiple-hour movie to the life of a famous writer with severe mental problems you would devote about ten minutes of that to showing her riding cowgirl. More like Johnny Panic and the Bible of Reams, am I right? I know if I had a crazy, lucid poet girlfriend with low self-esteem I would most certainly be the surgeon at 2 AM. Maybe I was just hoping we could go a little deeper into the life of someone with biopicking than who they fucked and what drugs they did. Did you see "Ray?" It didn't even have an ending. It's like, YOUR LIFE SURE IS FUCKED UP RAY, YOU GOT A LOT A PROBLEM, and then since we hit the butt and the crack it's time to wrap things up. They should've just cut away from him seizing and said "And NOW he's DEAD."

Another joke about naked Sylvia Plath is "Fiesta Melons." Haha.

And in other jokes

Since then, Paltrow has stayed in the public eye with her recent marriage to Chris Martin, lead singer of the great band for listening to "Coldplay." Like any celebrity marriage they have their ups and downs (and we hear about them), but they seem genuinely happy and everyone's wishing them the best. And we know that if Gwyneth ever starts running her mouth at him he-ee-ee with "fix her."

Paltrow and Martin (which sounds like an awesome seventies folk duo) are having multiple celebrity babies because celebrity babies are like Voltron. The more you have, the better it gets. And celebrity babies can cut monsters in half with a giant laser sword. The couple clearly enjoys their strong sexual relationship both constructively and for pleasure, and can you blame Chris Martin for wanting to eat out his wife repeatedly? After all, Apple came out of her vagina.

She's like a curious, George O'Keefed-out Carlito Caribbean Cool. But seriously, she named her first daughter "Apple" and I think that's adorable, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the second kid is named "Orange," only for that really hilarious resolution to the "which child do you love more" question.

After have the baby/Applebee's drink Paltrow told reporters she was going to take time away from the glitz and glare of the Hollywood spotlight, which explains why she has five movies coming out next year. Among them,

- "Dirty Tricks," a remake of the Michelle Williams/Kirsten Dunst classic "Dick."

- "Running with Scissors," the rock opera based on Weird Al Yankovic's epic masterpiece.

- "Have You Heard?" which I don't know much about

And

- "Untitled Marlene Dietrich Project," which stars Paltrow in the title role (as "Untitled Project") and guarantees at least half an hour of glossed over, superfluous tit-focus.

So rest assured that all of your CAW CAW BANG FUCKing needs will be taken care of for the next few years. She's like a bird, but she won't fly away. We're going to be living in Gwyneth's world for the rest of our lives, no matter how chill and hermit she pretends like she's being.

Seriously.