Jennifer Lopez Says Her New Movie “Wouldn’t Have Been Made” Without Ex Ben Affleck: A Gracious Nod… or a Ghostly Grip from a Love Story That Refuses to Fade?

In the velvet-draped drama of Hollywood’s endless encore, where exes exchange not just alimony but artistic lifelines, Jennifer Lopez has just penned a poignant postscript to her most infamous romance—one that blurs the line between collaboration and compulsion. On a sunlit September 28, 2025, episode of CBS Sunday Morning, the 56-year-old siren—still slaying in sequins and spotlight—opened up about Kiss of the Spider Woman, the musical adaptation she’s both starring in and executive-producing, with a confession that landed like a velvet hammer: “The movie wouldn’t have been made if it wasn’t for him and Artists Equity,” she said, her voice a sultry blend of gratitude and gravity, eyes flickering with the flicker of unfinished films. “Him,” of course, being Ben Affleck—her ex-husband, the brooding Bostonian whose production pact with Matt Damon greenlit the $40 million endeavor. Lopez, as the enigmatic drag performer-turned-muse Ingrid Luna, belts out Broadway anthems in a tale of tangled identities and tender tyrannies, but it’s Affleck’s invisible hand—financier, facilitator, phantom—that she credits with conjuring the project from the ether. Their reunion on the red carpet at the film’s New York screening on October 6, 2025, sealed the spectacle: Affleck’s arm around her waist, a cheek kiss that sparked a thousand tabloid tremors, his praise pouring forth like post-divorce prose: “The goal was to empower great artists… and in this movie, we did all of that.” Yet, as confetti from Sundance’s January 2025 premiere still lingers in Lopez’s lore—where she teared up, declaring, “I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life”—a disquieting dissonance hums beneath the harmony: Is this a tale of triumphant teamwork, or a tangled tether where Bennifer’s breakup blues bleed into the blockbuster? What unspoken strings does Affleck still pull, and in crediting the man who couldn’t commit, is J.Lo reclaiming her narrative… or relinquishing it forever?

Let’s unspool the spool back to the serpentine saga of their shared screen sorcery, a history as labyrinthine as the spider’s web Lopez now weaves on celluloid. It began in 2002 on the set of Gigli, that notorious flop where sparks flew amid the fizzle—Lopez as a tough-talking kidnapper, Affleck as her hapless hitman paramour, their chemistry crackling like a fuse before the bomb. Engaged by November, tabloids dubbed them Bennifer 1.0, a portmanteau that pulsed through Jersey Girl (2004) cameos and paparazzi pandemonium, only to implode in 2004’s heartbreak haze. Fast-forward two decades: a 2021 rekindling, a 2022 Vegas vow (and Georgia encore), a union that minted memes and millions—Lopez’s This Is Me… Now (2024) a love-letter labyrinth to their lost-and-found liaison. But the fairy tale fractured: divorce filed August 2024, finalized in January 2025 amid whispers of “irreconcilable” irrelevance, Lopez’s documentary The Greatest Love Story Never Told (2024) a raw requiem that romanticized the rupture. Yet, their professional pas de deux persists, a pas de deux of pragmatism: Affleck and Damon’s Artists Equity, launched in 2022 as a “creator-first” crusade, bankrolled Lopez’s boxing biopic Unstoppable (TIFF 2024 premiere, a gritty glow-up for her as underdog trainer Diana), and now Kiss of the Spider Woman, Bill Condon’s adaptation of Terrence McNally’s Tony-winning musical, where Lopez embodies the spectral showgirl who haunts a political prisoner’s reveries. “I told him, ‘This is a role I was born to play,’ and he said ‘Okay,’ and he helped make it happen,” Lopez recounted, her words a wistful waltz between wonder and wistfulness. Affleck’s on-carpet ode? “Jennifer Lopez is spectacular… enormously important, tremendous person of a lot of integrity.” Gracious? Undeniably. But in the glow of their reunion—Affleck’s hand on her hip, Lopez’s laugh lingering like a lost lyric—what ghosts glide between the grips, and does this debt of gratitude disguise a deeper dependency?

The film’s fabric? A fever dream of fantasy and fragility, where Lopez’s Luna isn’t just a lounge lizard but a lifeline—a drag diva dispensing dreams to a tortured activist (Diego Luna as Valentin Arregui) in a Buenos Aires jail, her songs a siren call against the shadows of dictatorship. Premiering at Sundance to standing ovations and sobs—Lopez, flanked by co-star Tonatiuh (Luis Molina’s luminous lead), choking up: “My mom would sit me in front of the TV… West Side Story on Thanksgiving. I was mesmerized. This is the first time I actually got to do it”—it’s a milestone laced with longing. Lopez, whose Broadway dreams danced through Bye Bye Birdie plans (thwarted by 2015 schedules) and In the Heights whispers, finally claims the footlights: belting Kander and Ebb’s “Kiss of the Spider Woman” in a gown that glimmers like gossamer, her voice a velvet vortex that vortexes vulnerability and verve. Critics croon: Variety hails her “mesmerizing metamorphosis,” The Hollywood Reporter crowns it “a career-defining coup.” But the choreography? Affleck’s Artists Equity didn’t just fund; it facilitated—Damon’s producing prowess polishing the pitch, Affleck’s Affleck allure luring A-listers like Whoopi Goldberg (narrator nod) and Nathan Lane (cameo king). Lopez’s exec-producer perch? Potent, yes—her vision vitalizing the vignettes—but what if the web’s woven tighter than it seems? Insiders intimate Affleck’s “Okay” was more oracle than offhand: late-night script sessions post-split, his Batman brooding over budget bleeds, a silent sentinel ensuring Sundance’s spotlight. Gratitude? Genuine. But in the interview’s intimate interlude—Lopez’s eyes softening at his name—what undercurrent of unfinished business bubbles beneath, and does crediting the ex eclipse her own empire-building?

Ah, but here’s the hoang mang—the swirling vertigo where valor twists into vulnerability, leaving you lingering on Lopez’s Sundance tears with a tremor in your throat. Their love ledger? A labyrinth of loans and legacies: Unstoppable‘s underdog undercurrent (Lopez as a Latina trailblazer, echoing Affleck’s Air underbelly) was Artists Equity’s inaugural ink, a $30 million bet that bowed to buzz but not box-office billions. Kiss, with its $40 million mantle, mirrors the mess: Lopez’s dream role, yes—but birthed from Bennifer’s bittersweet bond, a project that might have withered without Affleck’s wallet and whisper network. The red-carpet reunion? A spectacle of civility—Affleck’s arm a casual claim, Lopez’s cheek-kiss a chaste echo of their courthouse clinch—but the optics? Ominous. Paparazzi pulses with “Bennifer 3.0?” speculation, X threads theorizing therapy-fueled trysts (“He’s her muse, she’s his regret”), TikToks tallying the tension in her tight-lipped smile. Lopez’s divorce doc, raw with recriminations—Affleck’s “commitment issues” crooned in concept-album confessions—now feels like foreshadowing: Was This Is Me… Now a farewell, or a feint? Her post-nup poise? Polished, but precarious—blended broods (her twins Emme and Max, his Violet, Seraphina, Samuel) navigating the neutral ground of shared screens, holidays a haze of high-road hellos. Affleck’s praise? “I adore and am grateful to” her—a line that lands like a love letter left unsent. But what if the gratitude’s a guise, Lopez’s “I will always give him that credit” a chain she can’t—or won’t—cut? In Hollywood’s hall of mirrors, where exes executive-produce each other’s epics (Unstoppable‘s ring of respect, Kiss‘s kiss of closure?), does collaboration conquer closure… or court catastrophe?

The broader bewilderment blooms like a bruise under blush: Lopez, at 56, stands as a sentinel of second acts—Hustlers (2019) her heist of Hollywood’s ageism, Marry Me (2022) a meta-musing on matrimonial mishaps—but Kiss cuts closer, her Ingrid a icon of illusion, a woman who performs to persist. Sundance’s emotional exhale—”This crowd made my dream come”—evokes West Side Story‘s siren call, her mom’s Thanksgiving transmissions a touchstone turned talisman. Yet, the timing? Tormenting: Divorce dust barely settled, Affleck’s The Accountant 2 (October 2025) a box-office balm amid his own Batman backlash, their paths paralleling like plot points unresolved. Fans fracture: Swifties (Lopez’s “spiritual sisters” in spotlight scrutiny) flood with solidarity, #JLoQueen trending with 5 million posts; skeptics sneer “Desperate for his dollars?” on Deuxmoi dives. The film’s fate? October 10 wide release looms, projections pulsing at $20-25 million opening—modest for musicals, but mighty if it mirrors In the Heights‘ ($44 million pandemic pull). Critics’ chorus? Crescendoing: IndieWire inks it “Lopez’s luminous leap,” but murmurs of “Affleck’s shadow” mar the margins. What if the credit curdles the coup, audiences adrift in the aftertaste of their acrimony? Lopez’s next? Whispers of a Selena sequel, her Bronx-born biopic a bridge to Broadway dreams deferred. But with Affleck’s equity ever in the equation, does independence ignite… or illuminate an interdependence inescapable?

As October 9, 2025, dims into dusk, Lopez’s confession lingers like a lipstick smudge on a script page—gracious, glowing, but ghosted by the gaps. Kiss of the Spider Woman beckons with its Broadway-born bite, Lopez’s Luna a lure of liberation amid the lattice of longing. Yet, feel that faint fracture, the insidious undercurrent: Is Affleck’s aid a anchor of alliance, or an albatross around her ambition? Their reunion, red-carpet radiant, reaffirms respect—but what regrets ripple beneath? In the web of their woven worlds—Gigli‘s ghosts to Unstoppable‘s undercurrents—does J.Lo’s nod to Ben narrate closure… or narrate a narrative still nascent? Fans, feast on the footage: Affleck’s arm, her exhale at Sundance. But linger in the limbo, where credits crawl like questions unanswered. In Hollywood’s hall of half-truths, what “wouldn’t have been made” without the ex… and what worlds wait when the web weaves tighter? The premiere pulses; the plot? Perilously poised. Sleep to the score, if the strings subside. The kiss lands—but the spider? It still spins.