Barbenheimer

Oppenheimer

Barbie

Hi Barbie! And greetings friends, readers, Kens, and fellow film freaks—this has been a very busy and exciting and strange time in the culture. The biggest entertainment strike in history continues to rage on until the greedy and grossly-privileged studio heads listen to the WGA and SAG-AFTRA’s very reasonable demands for fair wages and their right to deny the use AI and the use of their likenesses post-death (so fuckin morbid), the government holds concerning hearings about UFOs—and all the while the rest of the world has finally showed an interest in watching Double Features, during what appears to be the best movie-attending weekend since Top Gun, since whatever the last Avengers shit was, and thee icon Greta Gerwig has broken the record for the best box office sales of any film made by a woman, ever. As the resident movie nerd of my household, friend group, and community at large, I’m accustomed to being the only one who cares about new movies coming out. But for the first time in a long time (or possibly ever??), it seemed that the whole world gave a shit about the movies just as much as I did. For the months and weeks leading up to the simultaneous release of Greta Gerwig’s Barbie and Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, all of Film Twitter, Film Insta, and Letterboxd were gearing up and discussing their plans for seeing these films on the same day. But when it came time to go to the movies, not just the niche film nerds, but EVERYONE showed up at their theatres—decked out in Barbie and/or Oppenheimer attire, ready to witness the latest and greatest cultural sensation. The Barbenheimer Double Feature became mainstream news, and common topics of convo, for philistines and the uncultured, alike. And by now you’re likely tired of hearing about this filmic phenomenon, but I had to do my own Barbenheimer Double Feature, of course—but I promise, after this, we don’t have to talk about it ever again (though I likely still will lol sorry!) In an unlikely but iconic twist of scheduling fate, Barbie and Oppenheimer both tell existential, expansive, complicated stories of America, of self-discovery, of the power of an idea. I am not as brave as many of you, because I simply had to split this Double Feature into two separate-day viewings—not just because Barbie means so much to me or because Oppenheimer is a whopping 3 hours long, but because I wanted to have time to properly process both cinematic experiences. Let’s begin with Boy Barbie aka Christopher Nolan’s film Oppenheimer. If you know me, you know that I have conflicted feelings about Christopher Nolan because while I love his Batman movies and I love The Prestige, I struggle to care about any of his other films as much. And on top of this, so much of what I end up remembering about Nolan’s projects are not their stories, but how very loud are, which is sort of all he cares about anyway. So I went into Oppenheimer, earplugs ready, eyes focused in the darkness, ready to digest whatever fantastical bro-fest he’s prepared this time, and after three hours of booms and whispers and hand-wringing about morals, I really wish I had more to say. It’s not that Oppenheimer was boring, I felt quite engaged watching this long-spanning story during each of its climaxes, but I do think this film tried to do a lot, while only accomplishing so much. Visually, Oppenheimer is a mix of men in board rooms and labs, and trippy aesthetic explorations of what scientific theories could look like. And though it was fun and goofy to see cameos from famous scientists like Bohr and Einstein, after a certain point it felt a bit like a scientific circle-jerk—with just one self-aware callout from Matt Damon’s military man, when he first meets the self-proclaimed “humble physicist” Oppenheimer, to which Damon says “I’ll let you know if I ever meet one.” The story of Oppenheimer is one of extreme power and responsibility, and the moral failures that come with that. Which, is sort of the story of Batman as well, albeit with less fun to be had. But with all of the anxiety and dread that Cillian Murphy’s Oppenheimer embodied along the way of this film and its impending atomic tragedy, I actually found the execution of said tragedy to be rather weak. This isn’t a major spoiler, but when Oppenheimer and Co. are done building and dropping their bombs, they’re shown the devastation in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and as an audience we see their sickened reactions, but like Oppenheimer himself, we never see these images for ourselves. I’m not saying Nolan should’ve tortured anyone with horrific imagery for an extended period of time, however, those horrors are very real and are a very large part of this story, and as someone who watches a lot of freaky, fucked-up content, this sequence of mere implied-horror was kinda wimpy for me. I also felt that Nolan himself couldn’t decide what he makes of Oppenheimer as a figure, which I suppose is fair, but it would’ve been so impactful if he made a point to illustrate how everyone involved was potentially a bad guy, rather than putting most of the blame on one, singular, easier-to-swallow bad guy in the end. I love stories about history, especially our incredibly flawed American history, so of course I was enthralled by Oppenheimer. But I do have to voice my biggest grievance with this film, which is a bigger spoiler, so skip this next paragraph if you wanna see this cringe for yourself but:

A large part of the marketing and narrative-framing of this film revolved around a quote from Hindu scripture about the myth of Prometheus (a god who invented fire, introduced it to humanity, and was subsequently punished by the gods), and the quote is “I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” Throughout the film, no one had uttered this line, but I knew it was coming. But when it finally *ahem* came? Color me cringed-out. Because they had Florence Pugh, naked and post-coitally intrigued by Oppenheimer’s dick and brain, crawl on top of this skinny science legend and made him say it as she rides him. Sorry if reading that was vulgar, but imagine watching it. And trust me, watching it with greater context, does not make it much better, or sexier, or any less pathetic. But let’s move on.

Oppenheimer was fine! Good, even. Because Christopher Nolan can technically make a good movie. But he just can’t help himself from indulging in a pretentious use of both black & white and color, a mixed-timeline framework of storytelling, and an utter and appalling lack of decent female characters. Nolan has the unique ability to make science fathomable, but hasn’t yet cracked the code on writing women. Josh Hartnett and all the other doomed daddies on parade were nice to see, but I’m suing Christopher Nolan for emotional damages—for making me so attracted to Cillian Murphy when he cast him as Scarecrow in Batman Begins, only to prop him up here and make him become death destroyer of worlds all over Miss Flo… but I guess that’s the ultimate male fantasy: being smart and desirable. You wanna know what the ultimate female fantasy is? Survival! Which brings me to the main event of this Double Feature Extravaganza, Greta Gerwig’s instantly-iconic, exuberantly empowering, bewilderingly brilliant, stupidly controversial, mind-blowingly beautiful film: Barbie. Now, you may be thinking “Obviously she loved this movie, she’s a girly girl who loves girling, her blog is literally the color pink, so she’s a biased fan of the Barbie movie”, and that’s fair. But because I’ve been a lifelong Barbie girl who grew up playing with Barbies (but mostly MyScenes iykyk), watching every Barbie animated movie, reading up on the history of Barbie, playing every Barbie CD-ROM game, playing every game on Barbie.com, watching the Barbie animated series when I was perhaps too old to, and eventually graduating to watching The Most Popular Girls in School YouTube series, I was extremely nervous about the first ever live-action Barbie movie to ever be made. Barbie means a lot to me, as someone who grew up with a doll-collecting mom and sister, as a girl who always loved playing with toys, and as a woman who has long-experienced a complicated relationship with this iconic fashion figure because, like any other milennial/gen z cusp woman, it’s never been exactly cool to be a fan of Barbie. Middle school is where it began for me—no more talk of Santa, Barbie, or other baby stuff, because that’s for kids. Then in high school came the more definitive stance—I can’t like Barbie because she’s spent her 60+ year existence setting beauty standards, effectively giving all women eating disorders and body dysmorphia (FWIW: Cillian Murphy’s snatched lil waist was more triggering to me than anything in Barbie, but I’m getting ahead of myself). And I couldn’t argue with that! I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve heard the “did you know that actually Barbie’s proportions would be monstrous if they were brought to scale?” spiel? Because DUH, people. Did you also know that the hotel in The Shining makes no structural or architectural sense either? As someone who’s always had body issues and likely always will, I can understand why that whole particular anti-Barbie movement had such support, because it was much easier for everyone to put the blame on a doll than it was to say that body issues can be caused by a plethora of problems dating back to colonialism, including, but not limited to: generational trauma, perfectionistic societal standards of femininity, regional and larger diet culture that is still pervasively telling everyone they’re too fat, and centuries of Western medicine’s insistence that a healthy body can only look one way. All of these are very real issues, and all existed before the invention of Barbie. I don’t recall analyzing Barbie’s body too much when I played with her, all that came to mind was what she would wear, what job she would do, and which Ken doll she was banging. Once I realized all of these things, I gave Barbie a break. Why should Barbie represent all women, anyway? Who were we to put that pressure on her tiny shoulders? Aren’t we kind of past this outdated, generalized way of thinking anyway? Barbie is just an idea, after all. The creation of Ruth Handler, a Jewish woman who worked for Mattel, who named this doll after her daughter Barbara, during a time when men didn’t listen to women, and kids toys were either toy trucks or baby dolls. Ruth gave little girls Barbie, who taught girls that when they grow up to be adults, they have more to aspire to than just motherhood. Girls can be anything, and Barbie has been it all: a chef, an astronaut, a doctor, the president, and yes, also a mom, but also, not! And in Greta Gerwig’s Barbie movie, all of the complicated, intergenerational mixed feelings that I just unloaded, come to life. And much like the doll herself, I’m sure Barbie still will fail to live up to people’s impossible, specific expectations, but it was just what it needed to be for this critic. I could sit here and explain the brilliant premise of this film to you, I could highlight every single iconic and memorable cast member and list their hilarious lines from Ken telling Ken he’s gonna “beach him off” to Issa Rae’s Barbie saying “this is Barbie’s dream house, motherfucker”, and I could certainly break down why many male critic’s negative opinions of this movie further underscore the need for a movie like this, but I don’t think I have the time—nor am I articulate enough to properly convey just how genius and special this movie is. Instead, I’m going to keep it basic. Basic, like how many educated and privileged people see the Barbie movie’s feminist ethos, but fail to realize that an unfortunately large amount of the world’s population has never even begun their feminist education. That’s why Barbie is counter-cultural, even revolutionary. It is silly, goofy, girly fun, but it’s also a bold and brazen critique of patriarchy and capitalism. It is an overwhelming viewing experience, even taking away all of the existential explorations of a doll leaving Barbie Land and realizing how real women have it in the real world, Barbie is a LOT. A lot to look at, listen to, and feel about. So I understand why people feel conflicted, there’s a lot to unpack! But also, there’s not. Greta Gerwig and to a lesser extent Noah Baumbach had the impossible task of making the Barbie movie fun, funny, and accessible to the entire world. Margot Robbie’s Barbie undergoes a dramatic journey of self-realization full of heartbreak, disappointment, and anxiety, and yet the entirety of this movie is a blast. My cheeks quite literally became sore from smiling so much. The colors, the sets, the music, the costumes—all made with immense love, camp value, and a supreme admiration and respect for accurately representing Barbie and all that comes with her. You don’t have to love Barbie to love this movie, you don’t have to be a woman to love this movie, but if you’ve lived your life under the patriarchal structures that be, I’d be shocked if you weren’t at least mildly entertained by this movie. Because if you take away all of the brilliant subtext and text of Barbie that so perfectly sums up how toxic masculinity degrades women and pits men against one another, than there’s still just a vibrantly fun and exciting movie to be watched. I had the highest hopes possible for Barbie, and would trust very few people with directing it, but Greta Gerwig did the impossible and exceeded my expectations. I knew it would be funny, but it was funnier than I thought it would be. I knew it would be delightful to look at, but it was more gorgeous than I could’ve known. And I knew that I would be moved by this movie, but I thought that was just because of my own, specific, personal connection to Barbie. But beyond the extremely touching moments of the Barbie movie, what has really inspired me and brought a tear to my shiny, plastic eye, is seeing groups of people dressed in pink, hearing how other women and people connected to it, and learning all of the different ways that this film may resonate with them. I’ve watched TikToks and I’ve read articles where people express their love for this movie, for reasons that I hadn’t even yet considered. That’s the power of Barbie—she really is and always will be that girl, who contains multitudes and scandals and more potential than the world could ever handle because we’re so threatened by powerful women. The only incorrect way to interpret Barbie, is by saying that this movie is “anti-man”, which of course, the conservatives have already done, but that’s because they’re too busy trying to live up to the impractical masculine ideals that Gerwig is so fiercely making fun of here. In actuality, Barbie is a movie for the boys, too. No one benefits from the patriarchy, not even men, and I feel really bad for the Kens that are still stuck on that hamster wheel to nowhere that leads them to believe that they can be the manliest, bro-iest, most macho machine to exist so long as they follow certain rules. Gender is not only a construct, but it’s parody at this point. So I’m so glad that Greta Gerwig went this direction with it, and offered not just a critique of Barbie, not just an eschewing of patriarchy, but an effective call-out of so many things that are wrong with society, and all of the weird rules we’ve made up for each other. So if you thought that Barbie was gonna be a turn-your-brain-off, no thoughts just vibes, kind of a movie, you’re quite mistaken. Barbie packs one hell of a punch: comedically, emotionally, culturally, spiritually, truly. Take it from this Barbie girl, the Barbie movie was far less afraid to critique its subject matter than Oppenheimer… but I’ve said quite enough on this subject. In conclusion I’ll say this: Greta Gerwig for president, Allan forever, and viva Barbie!