Barbie (2023)

Greta Gerwig | 114 mins | Blu-ray (UHD) | 2.00:1 | USA & UK / English | 12 / PG-13

Barbie

Once upon a time, a movie based on a children’s toy would’ve been IP slop; or, at best, surprisingly entertaining IP slop. Heck, there are dozens of direct-to-video animated Barbie movies that prove exactly that: they look cheap; they’re there to generate money from little girls (primarily) demanding to see the video of the toy they like; but some of them aren’t actually all that bad.

But that was a couple of decades ago. Now, the majority of our mainstream movie culture is based around originally-for-kids IP that people who have reached adult ages still apparently obsess over. And when it comes to “movies based on toys” specifically, we can look back to The LEGO Movie (released a whole decade ago this month) for a work that transcended what it “should have been” (an expensive 90-minute toy commercial) to become something genuinely entertaining; that used its IP in creative and fun and, yes, even meaningful ways. It’s those footsteps that the Barbie movie seeks to walk in.

And, thanks to some savvy behind-the-scenes choices, it succeeds! Heck, it almost succeeds too well. This is definitely a movie primarily aimed at adults, with enough silliness and bright colours on the side to not alienate kids too much. Though by “kids” I mean “teenagers”. Sure, the 12A and PG-13 ratings are permissive enough to take your six-your-old who actually plays with Barbies, but they’re going to be left floundering — or, worse, bored — as the film debates feminism, the patriarchy, and gender roles in general. This is a film about where Barbie, the toy, sits in our culture; what it represents, and what it should represent, and how successful or not it is at doing that. It’s not an essay film — those themes are smartly addressed along the way as part of a storyline about Barbie-the-toy crossing over into our real world, for various reasons — but nor is it a bright-and-colourful bit of fluff to entertain small kids. Maybe it could have been — that’s what Pixar used to excel at — but it’s not the route the filmmakers chose to go down.

Pretty as a picture

As for the meat of what the film has to say and how it says it… oy, I’m not sure I want to get into that discourse. It’s just asking to have annoying people jump up in your replies. Nonetheless, it’s quite bold for an IP title like this to criticise the patriarchy by inverting it and making a matriarchy the oppressive state; but without feeding into right-wing numpties by saying “see, women would be just as bad!”. People say the film is about feminism, which is true, but it’s specifically about what I’d consider the true meaning of feminism — which is really about genuine equality — rather than what reactionaries imagine it is, i.e. “women are best and should be in control”. It could also have hit that note in a shallow, almost accidental way; for example, if it had been a parade of “aren’t men stupid and annoying?” jokes. Put another way, the film cares as much about the Kens and their right to be individuals as it does the Barbies and their right to be powerful. (I said I didn’t want to write anything particularly ‘risky’ and look what I’ve gone and done…)

Also, thanks to my personal predilections, I particularly enjoyed how the film deconstructed itself; or, rather, the fact it was aware that it’s content based on product and engaged with that to some extent. It sits alongside other recent works like The Matrix Resurrections and Return to Monkey Island as works of art that have an awareness of where they sit in culture and why they exist, and are prepared to engage with that, to deconstruct it and analyse it, in quite an overt and meta fashion within the works themselves. Personally, that’s something I’ve wanted and dreamt of seeing, but never expected to get from studio IP — such self-awareness is kinda frowned upon when it’s saying “I exist for no artistic reason, purely to make more money for the studio”, as The Matrix 4 did most explicitly. What’s great about all three of these works is that they go beyond that obvious point, too.

In something of an about turn, others have criticised the film for not being subtle in the way it handles these issues. My friends, you’re watching a movie based on a toy, aimed at as wide an audience as possible. This isn’t an abstruse Palme d’Or contender — it’s a film that can hit your everyman round the face with a bright-pink hammer three times over and they still might miss the point. Sometimes, it’s the right choice to be, if not “on the nose”, then certainly overt. It’s ok for a story to have a point, and for that point to be clear.

Tarantino's favourite scene

The other point of discourse the film has fired up came after the Oscar nominations, when co-writer/director Greta Gerwig and star/producer Margot Robbie were… nominated, actually, but not in the categories some people felt they should be nominated in. Although, if they’d swapped the nominations around, I expect they’d be annoyed the other way too. So, Gerwig gets a screenplay nod (which she might win, I guess?) but not a directing one (which she wouldn’t have, let’s face it), and Robbie is nominated for producing the film (a definite achievement — she’s spoken a lot in interviews about the efforts that went into making the film they wanted to make, and convincing the studio and toy manufacturers to go along with it) but not for acting (which she probably wouldn’t have won anyway). I don’t mean neither would have been deserving of the other nomination, but the directing gong seems almost sewn up for Christopher Nolan (for various reasons), and actress is a two-horse race between others. Besides, the real achievement is that the film exists as it is, with the content that it has — that’s a feat of writing and producing, not acting or, truly, directing (sure, in many other movies the director is king queen, but you get the distinct impression Barbie was significantly powered by Robbie; and when one person is both (co-)writer and director, surely a lot of their conceptual energy is injected at the writing stage).

Competitors aside, the quality of work can always be argued on its own merits. Gerwig’s direction is pacey and bright and fun, but is it as good as what she did in Lady Bird or Little Women? Which is to say, it fits the material well enough, but is it really special enough for an awards win? And also, who the fuck cares? Awards are kinda arbitrary. She did a good job. When it comes to Robbie’s performance, complaints have focused on the fact Ryan Gosling is nominated. Well, he’s in a different category — the fact he gave one of the five best supporting actor performances in 2023 has no bearing whatsoever on whether Robbie gave one of the five best, er, actressing performances of 2023. But yeah, Gosling does almost steal the film out from under Robbie, because he’s consistently hilarious with just enough introspection to add some character. That’s certainly the initial impression, I think. But Robbie is the film’s emotional core (yes, the movie about the plastic doll has emotions), which ultimately allows her to hang on to her own movie. That’s not something to underestimate: a lesser performer could have been overshadowed. Instead, they’re both excellent, particularly when they’re sharing a scene.

Barbie and Ken

By rights, a Barbie movie should’ve been something inoffensively plasticky for little girls, possibly with some trite “you can do anything you want” message in between all the different outfits designed to sell more toys. Instead, Gerwig and Robbie have gone deeper and further in every respect — taking that “you can do anything”-type aphorism and dissecting it to find how true it is, or isn’t, and why. But they’ve wrapped that up in a movie that doesn’t forget to celebrate the thing it’s about, both by acknowledging Barbie’s good intentions and with piles of references to its history (what we’d call fan service if this was a a boys’ IP with tonnes of Lore or whatever). And, perhaps most importantly for a movie that, remember, is based on a toy — a thing that’s supposed to bring joy and fun and entertainment — they’ve made something full of fun and joy and entertainment.

4 out of 5

Barbie is the 4th film in my 100 Films in a Year Challenge 2024. It placed 9th on my list of The Best Films I Saw in 2024.

Archive 5, Vol.1

Part of the impetus behind this new era of 100 Films was to solve ‘problems’ like my repeated failure to post reviews. Hopefully my plan for regular groups of capsule-sized reviews will solve that going forward. But this has been an issue for a while, and that’s led to a huge backlog of unreviewed films from 2019 to 2021 — it totals a ridiculous 449 feature films (counting shorts too, it goes over 500). Rather than abandon those to the mists of time, I present a new weekly (more or less — let’s not overcommit myself) series: Archive 5.

Essentially, it’s the same format as new viewing: each post is a collection of short reviews; but here they’re five titles plucked at random from my archive of unreviewed films (and I’ve used a random number generator, so it’s genuinely unmethodical). If I can keep this up weekly, it will take me just under two years to clear the backlog — which means I could still be reviewing stuff from 2019 in 2023. Hahaha… haha… ha… ugh.

With that in mind, there’s no need for further ado. This week’s Archive 5 are…

  • Never Too Young to Die (1986)
  • Bachelor Knight (1947)
  • Little Women (2019)
  • Aniara (2018)
  • Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966)

    (I Care a Lot was originally intended to be part of this post, but then the review turned out a little long, so I spun it off by itself. That’s the kind of thing I’ll probably keep doing, too.)


    Never Too Young to Die

    (1986)

    Gil Bettman | 97 mins | digital (HD) | 1.85:1 | USA / English | 18 / R

    Never Too Young to Die

    If you dropped A View to a Kill, Rocky Horror, WarGames, and Mad Max 2 into a blender, the end result might be Never Too Young to Die. And if that sounds like a ludicrous, unpalatable mash-up… yep, that’s Never Too Young to Die.

    This direct-to-video action-adventure stars a pre-Full House John Stamos as Lance Stargrove, a teenage gymnast whose dad is a secret agent (played by George Lazenby — aged 47 at the time, but looking at least 20 years older). When daddy is killed, Lance teams up with his partner (singer turned actress Vanity) to go after the culprit: gang leader and wannabe terrorist Velvet Von Ragnar (Gene Simmons (yes, from Kiss), chewing scenery as if he’s not been fed for months).

    If you’ve never heard of this film… well, neither had I, until a Cracked article suggesting comical substitutes for Covid-delayed blockbusters. But what really convinced me to watch it is that it has The Greatest Trailer Ever Made. If you set out to make a spoof ’80s trailer, I’m not convinced you’d be able to beat that. Unfortunately, neither can the film as a whole. It’s fun at times (the boob-biting final fight, or a scene where Stamos tries to distract himself from Vanity’s sexuality by… eating multiple apples), but it’s not quite camp or daft enough to really earn a place as a cult classic.

    I’ll say this for it, though: rewatching that trailer has made me really want to watch the film again…

    3 out of 5

    Never Too Young to Die was #70 in my 100 Films in a Year Challenge 2020.


    Bachelor Knight

    (1947)

    aka The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer

    Irving Reis | 91 mins | digital (SD) | 4:3 | USA / English | U

    Bachelor Knight

    If you ever need to name an obscure Oscar winner for some reason, you could do worse than Bachelor Knight — or, to give it its even-dumber-sounding original title, The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer. Yes, this won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay (the other nominees aren’t the greatest field you’ve ever seen, but altogether they’re either better-remembered or were considered good enough to nominate for other gongs that evening, so quite how this took the prize, I don’t know).

    The plot also stretches credibility: after high schooler Susan (Shirley Temple) becomes infatuated with artist Richard Nugent (Cary Grant), she sneaks into his place to model for him, much to the disapproval of her older sister Margaret (Myrna Loy), who also happens to be a judge; and when Nugent ends up in her court room, she sentences him to date Susan until her infatuation inevitably wears itself out. I know things are different in the US, and also in the past, but did/do judges there really have the power to hand out any crazy made-up sentences they like?

    On the bright side, the film moves sprightly through its plot. Perhaps that’s because it takes a whole 40 minutes to get through the basic setup, even while running at a pace, means there’s less screen time left to dwell on all that follows. Not that some individual bits don’t go on a tad, like a picnic sequence; but others work very well, like a scene in a nightclub that is a nicely-written bit of escalating farce.

    It’s not the best work of anyone involved, but Bachelor Knight belies its iffy title (both of them) to be a likeable-enough 90 minutes of screwball comedy.

    3 out of 5

    Bachelor Knight was #70 in my 100 Films in a Year Challenge 2021.


    Little Women

    (2019)

    Greta Gerwig | 135 mins | cinema | 1.85:1 | USA / English | U / PG

    Little Women

    Writer-director Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel was greeted in some quarters by questions of if it was necessary: it’s the sixth big-screen version of Alcott’s book, and came just two years after a major new BBC adaptation. Well, I don’t know if it was ‘necessary’ or not, but Gerwig’s version is definitely a very good film.

    A key point that marks it out from other adaptations is that Gerwig has restructured the story: instead of playing out in a straightforward chronological fashion, it flashes back and forth in the sisters’ lives, starting with them as young women in 1868, with Jo in New York and Amy in Paris, before mixing in events from their childhood, seven years earlier, when the four sisters lived together in Massachusetts. This might seem like a rejig for the sake of differentiation, but Gerwig uses it to create interesting juxtapositions or to reframe plot points. For one example (spoilers follow, if you’re not familiar with the story), I felt it made Laurie and Amy’s relationship less creepy. Told chronologically, they first meet when he’s a young man and she’s a child, and he only moves his affection to her after Jo’s rejected him and Amy’s grown up. In Gerwig’s version, we first meet them together in Paris, and they seem more destined for each other, with a genuine spark between them as individuals, rather than a nagging sense of “if I can’t have one sister, this other will do”. It’s only later we learn the full backstory of Laurie and Jo — and, for that matter, of Jo and Amy — which, yeah, is obviously still a bit creepy, when you think about it.

    Whichever way you cut it, Gerwig seems to really get to the heart of the meaning in the story and characters, as well as giving it a lightly feminist polish (misogynists would probably consider it Terribly Feminist and Evilly Revisionist, if they watched it, which I don’t imagine they would). A star-studded cast ensure the whole thing is well acted, and it’s beautifully shot by cinematographer Yorick Le Saux. Questions about ‘necessariness’ are particularly irrelevant when the work is this good.

    5 out of 5

    Little Women was #4 in my 100 Films in a Year Challenge 2020.


    Aniara

    (2018)

    Pella Kågerman & Hugo Lilja | 106 mins | digital (HD) | 2.35:1 | Sweden & Denmark / Swedish & English | 18 / R

    Aniara

    A sci-fi movie based on, somewhat oddly, a 1950s Swedish poem, Aniara is about a spaceship transporting migrators from Earth to Mars that accidentally veers off course and heads irretrievably into deep space. Rather than the kind of action-adventure this might provoke if it were a Hollywood production, Aniara follows how the passengers and crew attempt to cope with their new lives.

    It’s a premise interesting enough that you feel it could fuel a TV series — how this mass of people, forced together by accident and terrible circumstance, comes to function (or not) as a society. Or maybe the remake of Battlestar Galactica already nailed that kinda thing. Either way, here it’s condensed into about 100 minutes; and because it has such a long-term view of what it wants to pack in, there are some surprisingly large time jumps (by the half-hour mark we’ve already reached Year 3). It takes some odd detours when it does that (society completely breaks down into weirdo cults… then a probe that might allow them to return home is discovered, at which point everything goes back to normal), but overall it has a pretty clear thesis about humanity and how we cope with things — “not well”, fundamentally.

    The final act kind of rushes a similar point, skipping ahead (several times) to how things are even worse without really tracking the descent. Maybe that’s why I liked the idea of a series version so much: to fill in all those blanks. But I don’t want to take this criticism too much to heart. If anything, the fact I wanted more detail is a compliment. It’s not the film bungling developments and me searching for justification, but rather that I’d be interested in seeing the themes and characters explored in even more detail. As it stands, Aniara is an epic-scale story told well in a somewhat condensed fashion.

    5 out of 5

    Aniara was #65 in my 100 Films in a Year Challenge 2020. It placed 21st on my list of The Best Films I Saw in 2020.


    Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

    (1966)

    Mike Nichols | 131 mins | Blu-ray | 1.85:1 | USA / English | 12

    Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

    When a middle-aged college professor (Richard Burton) and his wife (Elizabeth Taylor) have his new young colleague (George Segal) and wife (Sandy Dennis) around for drinks one evening, the occasion soon degenerates into a verbal slanging match between the elder couple, the younger inescapably caught in the middle.

    And as the film takes place in almost-real-time, in just a couple of locations, it feels like we’re trapped with them. With a running time north of two hours, the film’s drunken sardonicism almost becomes an endurance test, particularly when it goes on a bit too long in the middle. But it’s carried through by some magnificent performances. Everyone talks about Taylor — just 33 at the time, she wasn’t sure she could play the part of a bitter 52-year-old, but she’s excellent — or they talk about Taylor and Burton — similarly, he wasn’t sure he could play a beaten-down failure of a man, having been used to taking dashing heroic roles — but Sandy Dennis is great too, and deserved her Oscar. Of the four actors, its George Segal who draws the short straw, not really getting the material to truly stand toe-to-toe with the other three (he still got an Oscar nom, though).

    Director Mike Nichols insisted the film be shot in black & white, which helps it to pull off Taylor’s ageing makeup, but was also intended to stop it seeming too ‘literal’ and instead give an abstract quality. That fits the material, because the characters, events, and revelations are all pretty odd; the way it plays out pretty strange. Plus, the pitch-black darkness of the night fits the film’s themes. Cinematographer Haskell Wexler does a superb (indeed, Oscar-winning) job, the photography looking more striking than you might expect, or even need, for such an actor-focused character piece.

    A whole featurette on the film’s disc release discusses how it was “too shocking for its time”, mainly because of the language used (the fact the film was made relatively unedited set a ball rolling that, just a couple of years later, saw the Production Code replaced by the modern MPAA classification system). While such concerns are no longer really relevant (once-controversial terms like “screw” and “goddamn” are hardly “fuck”, are they?), that the film is still powerful shows it was never truly about what was said, but who said it and how they said it. I don’t mean to say that it would still be offensive today, but rather that it still packs an emotive punch.

    5 out of 5

    Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was #22 in my 100 Films in a Year Challenge 2021.