SCOTT I’m glad you brought up “Colossal” and “Get Out,” both of which confront just how divided “we” are. (Since the movies have been in theaters for a while, I think we can get a little spoiler-y). In “Colossal,” Anne Hathaway’s character, Gloria, a drifting young adult of a familiar indie-movie type, discovers that the monster is her. Or more precisely, for reasons left delightfully unexplained, that whenever she steps into a playground sandbox in her generic American hometown, a giant scaly lizard appears in Seoul and does a lot of damage. The beast is the manifestation of her anger and frustration, and it’s soon joined by a rival: a giant robot who is the alter id of Oscar, a childhood friend of Gloria’s played by Jason Sudeikis.

One of the brilliant things about “Colossal,” written and directed by Nacho Vigalondo, is the way it entwines low-key post-mumblecore comedy, genuine horror and feminist insight. While Oscar and Gloria are both angry, their fury is not symmetrical or equivalent. Oscar, who seems like a nice enough guy at first, turns out to be part of the brotherhood of angry dudes who swarm like locusts on social media and elsewhere, spewing a toxic brew of belligerence, entitlement and whining self-pity. One minute he’s a passive-aggressive gaslighter, the next a homicidal maniac, threatening to wipe out innocent people on the other side of the world if he doesn’t get his way.

Gloria’s rage, in contrast, is partly the result of a lifetime of having to deal with guys like him.

DARGIS The male troll is truly the monster of the moment, as “Ghostbusters” reminded us last summer. In “Colossal,” to be monstrous means to be incredibly powerful and have dominion over life and death. To an extent, the movie falls along a familiar gender divide when it comes to morality (a divide backed by science!): Gloria is horrified by her newfound ability — specifically its tragic consequences — while Oscar embraces his murderous power. In other words, she may be a mess and an alcoholic, but her moral identity is far stronger than his. Like Jeffrey Dahmer, Oscar has to drink to excess before he kills, drowning whatever tiny inner voice he has in beer before rampaging.

We may love female monsters — the bandaged villain in the new “The Mummy” is one — and we’re fascinated by true-life horror stories of women who commit ghastly crimes. But many seem to retain doubts whether women can be wholly monstrous; whether they’re capable of crushing enemies nonmetaphorically. In an NBC News/Survey Monkey poll, for instance, a majority of military and veteran voters didn’t believe that Hillary Clinton, despite being a former secretary of state, could ably serve as commander in chief. Obviously some voters thought her monstrous, but for others she may not have been monstrous enough because, really, we don’t just love monsters, we love the monsters in us.