Feminism & The Empowered Self – Barbie as Both “Meta” Commentary and Inspired, Pop Hilarity
“F**K THE PATRIARCHY!”
And with that opening salvo (which never, by the way, appears in the screenplay to the new film about Mattel’s most famous bronzed doll), I’ve likely lost about half of my audience. In one fell swoop, I will have been both canceled and shunned on one side, and lionized for the ardor of my conviction, the bluntness of my speech, on the other. This is, after all, the new normal for political discourse in our country, where the poles stand totemic and the once vast centrist middle has been all but eviscerated.
Those of a certain right-ward persuasion will likely find Barbie’s first appearance on the silver screen to be ham-fisted and unsubtle, like wielding a thousand different hammers but swinging them all at the same blasted nail. Tired of the accusations, and languishing under what is perceived to be an OVER-correction in response to #metoo, many may throw up their hands and exclaim, “Men are evil! WE GET IT!” Yet still others see the events displayed on screen in this one as but a sliver, one small magnifying lens placed over the myopic vision of so many who just can’t seem to get how much more work there still is to do. For the latter, glass ceilings and wage gap statistics could be marshaled, as well as the dozens of micro-aggressions of which females are both subject and victim on a daily basis.
Regardless of where you land on this fault line (and I hope I have some on both sides still reading), Barbie had its work cut out for it from the jump. This is because of the (at least seeming) contradictions which lie at the heart of the product line itself. It’s now no clandestine truth that the earliest iterations of maker Ruth Handler’s creation of vinyl and plastic were full of ridiculously stereotypical standards of feminine beauty. What is perhaps most shocking, in fact, is how UNreal they were proportionally - zero-waisted, long-legged, blonde, perfectly tanned, and amply breasted (one line actually had chests which GREW when you moved their arms). In today’s world of (desperately needed) awareness and education about realistic standards, body positivity, efforts aimed at combating dysphoria, and much more, such an emblem would not only be received in bad taste but should almost be declared anathema.
But Mattel will readily tell you how much all of that has changed. The Barbie line is now among the most diverse in the world, they’d say, boasting dolls of just about every ethnic and racial group, a wide-arranging assortment of career women, and all shapes and sizes to boot. Add to these figurines with mental and physical disabilities, and the company surely felt itself properly armed against any criticisms from interested parties as varied as the concerned left and the woke mob.
Even so, one may ask - Did they do enough? Do the inconsistencies at the heart of the company behind the doll really resolve themselves upon closer inspection? And more importantly for our discourse, how in the actual hell do you make a movie with ANYTHING solid to say with all these swirling around the ether?! Would it be pure spoof, sending up the ridiculous costumes and unreal standards in an effort to debunk them? Or, a meta-cultural commentary on all femininity? A love story? A romp? A stupid summer blockbuster showcase for hot people subtly reinforcing all of the things critics have been lambasting Mattel about for years?
What would the creators of this film project do? Well, how about this for a start. You grab Greta Gerwig, one of the best damn directors working today. You give her the budget, the costume and production design, winsome stars and tremendous bit players in minor roles, and a team of writers in it to win it. Now, you can start building a product with something to say.
And where Ms. Gerwig takes Barbie is a pretty glorious place indeed. What she does, in fact, is create a picture which is a little bit of all the things just mentioned (though the love story is not quite what you’d expect. But we’ll get there). To my mind, she tackles this thorny thicket of possible political and cultural landmines with grace and aplomb. After a direct homage to none other than Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, the picture opens with what could probably best be described as a rather creative take on an infomercial - delineating all that I’ve just said about the variegated Barbie product lines and occupations for women of the world. This is shared straightforwardly but also with tongue planted (a little) in cheek. We sense a joke coming, but we’re in on it ourselves.
From there, Barbie proceeds to show us her own world, complete with an opening song which doubles as an Easter egg-laden nod to all of the things that children could do with the dolls for years and an earworm that feels, well, a bit like going to the dentist. Fortunately for us all, this is all story establishment and the film smartly moves swiftly on to other matters. In this case, it is the stereotypical six pack abs and flawless miens of a sun-tinged universe where every girl bears the name “Barbie” and every boy “Ken.” Except…for one guy named Allan (a hilarious cameo, which I’ll leave for you to discover on your own). This world is everything that so many despise about the Barbie name – perfect, impossible, unreal. And that is precisely the point.
While I’m attempting to remain as spoiler-free as possible, I must say where Gerwig takes the story next is the true stroke of genius in the picture. We soon discover that Barbie’s dream world has a surprise, almost multiversal tie, to our own “real world.” The connection is a bit like a cross between Toy Story’s life-infused action figures and pin-pricked voodoo dolls. For when things happen to the individual toys in the real world, they affect the same in this magentascape. (This is discovered in a hilarious sequence where Robbie’s character begins experiencing first morbid thoughts and then flattened feet, culminating in a devilish barb about finding a bit of cellulite on her upper thigh).
It soon becomes apparent that Barbie’s doll in the real world is in need of some assistance. (What’s not explained, however, is how there’s precisely ONE stereotypical blonde Barbie doll in a world pushing 7 billion people, but…I digress). More specifically, the girl who Barbie belongs to is having some troubles of her own. So, our perfect leading lady and bleach-dyed male sidekick travel to our own world, where they have VERY divergent experiences. Ken discovers the power of patriarchy, in a montage of everything stereotypically masculine from cowboys and horses to businessmen engaging in cooler talk, from sporting events to the power of speaking to captivated audiences with no real authority at all.
Barbie, by contrast, learns what real tears are. She feels the objectification of lewd comments arising from male passerbys. She even, in a Mean Girls-like sequence, takes it on the chin from three teen girls who do not idolize her femininity and grace, and actively hate what she represents to them. Combine these hardships with the discovery that women here are not only NOT ruling the world, but they are often fighting tooth and nail for every inch of ground they take, and Barbie is soon overcome. She’d like to pick up her pink cowboy boots and head back home.
Yet, Ken has been busy during the interim. Attempting without credential to get himself every job from doctor to beach (lifeguard, only not), he decides he’ll just take patriarchy on home with him to Barbieland. A clash of ideologies and conflict soon come to a head in the once idyllic world of Barbie. And that, my friends, is when the game really gets afoot.
Barbie eventually turns to a third act which, I’ll be honest, surprises. Here Gerwig gets almost downright Malick-ian in her vision and craft. Battles over feminist ideals and overextended machismo recede and questions of identity rise to the surface. The laughs do not subside altogether, but the focus definitely shifts. Barbie’s character has come full circle and is now reflecting on her own desires and goals. In a film balancing on the edge of a blade between navigating cultural wars and crafting a product so ostentatiously “pop” and FUN, a denouement with real emotive stakes and genuine humor is perhaps the greatest miracle of all.
Speaking of the latter, in an effort to preserve the myriad laughs, we’ll just briefly note the appearance of a weirdo Barbie in Kate McKinnon and a hare-brained Will Ferrell as Mattel’s CEO. Simu Liu is also terrific as another of the empty-headed, non-genitalia-laden Ken’s. Issa Rae is a Barbie with political aspirations. The list goes on and on, and this is precisely what I’m pointing towards - This is a fully populated world of solid performances and real ideological constructs. With the songs and dance, the flash and glitz, it could be mistaken for a romp, but hey, it’s not Greta’s fault if the hard stuff goes down smoothly.
Even so, the true zenith of the entire work, in my humble opinion, comes about 2/3 of the way through the picture. If you’ve been trolling the socials, many of you have perhaps run into quote snippets or even pirated clips from this heavy moment. At the center of Barbie is not only the dolls come to life but a mother and her daughter. And, at one point, the former (played pitch perfectly by America Ferrera) gives a monologue which would be as at home on Broadway as any silver screen. It underscores just how difficult it is to be a woman, how impossible the balance, how crushing the weight of expectations. It’s rendered soulfully, almost chillingly, but utterly authentically. Here lies the heart of the film, and it’s in the outworking of this central conceit that the third act gets its lingering power. I wasn't crying, you were.
At this point, a query has probably arisen in your mind: So are you saying this is a perfect film? By no means. For starters, I think there’s a dance number involving the Ken’s in the third act that was basically filler. It does serve to push forward the story and pay tribute to some of the musicals which Gerwig has cited as being a big part of her own film past. But it did create in a me a sense of a film slightly meandering middle section before landing the plane quite effectively in its closing moments.
There are other minor nitpicks as well. The entire mother and daughter substory is a little under-baked. In particular, the daughter’s character gets short shrift. Beyond getting swept up in the magical realism of this whole adventure, we’re given little understanding of her transformation from snooty Goth teen to a wide-eyed, open-hearted gal lapping up all that Dreamworld has to offer.
But, by far the biggest critique I have heard is that this is simply a one-sided presentation. There is not much subtlety or nuance in the messaging of the picture. It is truly a great many whacks at the “mole” of patriarchy writ large and gross male dominance in its many outcroppings. Unlike so many who have discarded it for this reason, labeling it leftist propaganda or male-bashing, however, I am very willing to trust myself to Greta’s care. (I’ve even read some folks critiquing it as “anti-mother,” which is a flat out absurdist position in my mind given the material here). As I argued rather vociferously in my review of Spike Lee’s Da 5 Bloods a few years back, some topics need sledgehammers. When the carrot is ineffective, the stick will have to do.
Moreover, I do think there are some variations on the same theme. For instance, Robbie’s quick reaction to the construction workers cat-calling her concerning objectification are as amusing as they are confrontational. In fact, though the message is heavy and timely, its delivery is decidedly not. The picture is simply littered with great one-liners. If I haven’t said it clearly enough to this point, Barbie is FUNNY! It’s well-penned. Even when the barbs get more acerbic, humor is still the sugar that makes the medicine go down. Finally, if the destruction of all males was the real point of this whole affair, then how do you explain the conclusion of Ken’s arc? (Though I do have a few beefs with his general presentation as a character). No spoilers, but it is certainly an affirmation of individuality and personhood.
That is as good a place to stop as any. For Barbie is a great many things: A pop-glitzed romp, a coming of age story in its own weird key, a rollicking comedy, a sharp social satire, and a rather fitting homage to a product line that has been in so many of our lives for decades. In the days ahead, it will be memed and quoted to death, twisted into pretzels on the backs of rabble rousers seeking to gain cred on the socials by bludgeoning home their own beliefs. This will likely prove the validity of many of its more salient points. But if you, like me, found an oddly personal connection to this ragtag group of weirdos, you’ll simply have to tip your cap to its director. Three films running now, and Ms. Gerwig is still at the very top of her game.
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