Unpacking My Disinterest in ‘Barbie’

Before delving into the feminist expressions in Barbie (2023), let's first reminisce about the entanglement between feminism and cinema. Despite the presence of diverse female characters with different backgrounds in various genres before, including many powerful and intelligent heroines, it remains challenging to associate feminism with commercial films or Hollywood. We are reluctant to label films like Birds of Prey (2020) or Charlie's Angels (2000) as so-called feminism. Even with powerful awakening declarations like Thelma & Louise (1991), when it comes to feminism, we tend to think of speculative or realistic non-genre works like Cleo from 5 to 7 (1962), Jeanne Dielman (1975), Wanda (1970), or 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (2007). The seriousness and complexity that issues like gender entail seem to clash with the nature of commercial films. Exploring the plight of the individual within a closed structure may only create new closures, an inevitability faced by authors when confronting the limitations of the medium.

Barbie (2023), touted as a feminist comedy, still faces some opposition and responsibility. It adheres to the standard three-act structure, but its narrative logic leans more towards the simplicity and directness often found in Chick Flicks. It also borrows from the exaggerated and retro-styled "animation mode," incorporating elements like comical zooms and axis jumps. From the outset, the film unashamedly peddles absurdity, from its solemn homage/reconstruction of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) to the plastic, pink bubble-covered lives of the Barbie inhabitants in the overly saturated Barbieland, which feels like the opening of a Disney animation but with exaggerated performances by real actors, adding a sense of absurd humor. Perhaps Barbieland is known for its fantastical nature, and its plasticity doesn't create any dissonance. However, even when Ken and Barbie venture into the Real World, the distortion strategy persists. From Barbie's introduction to construction workers, earnestly stating, "I don't have a vagina, and he (Ken) doesn't have a penis," to the homage to MATTEL's office structure and the executives' stereotyped appearances, we quickly realize that apart from the live-action scenes and Real-World parts, there's not much actual substance.

This unconventional strategy risks cheapening its themes. While it achieves maximum satirical effect through its straightforward approach to comedic irony, the gender issues it attempts to explore inevitably get flattened into mere concepts. The serious undertones clash with the comedic elements, creating a dissonance in tone. Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach's creation doesn't escape the strategic use of preaching. Setting aside the comedic effect, every attempt to expose the system's critical lines comes across too bluntly, making it hard to imagine anyone automatically advocating for the system, saying, "We just hid patriarchy better." We can say that the film still has its irremovable creative flaws. Can't there be a more intelligent and profound form of satire instead of staying on the surface? However, these concepts also reflect an unprecedented level of mature speculation; this is probably one of the most thoughtfully feminist works within the commercial film genre.

In Barbieland 1.0, the dreamy kingdom constructed of smiles and pink paint, Barbie's only task is to "stay perfect" and go through each day programmatically. At this point, Barbieland seems like an invincible "matriarchy" utopian society. However, Barbieland 1.0 is, in reality, a panoramic prison of manipulated images (windows and doors wide open), a parabolic model of collusion between patriarchy and capitalism. It presents perfectly crafted female images, essentially self-unaware marionettes, being manipulated by the surface-level domination exercised by capitalism. However, this internal structure is extremely fragile, akin to a bubble that bursts with a touch. On the one hand, it excludes/ignores those like Weird Barbie/Ken/Alan, the ugly or non-functional fringe characters, which reflects the position most women and some men occupy within the patriarchal hierarchy. On the other hand, the emotions and experiences from the Real World constantly influence and restrain the fate of the Barbie inhabitants, making them aware that even for the "perfect" Barbie, "Stay perfect" is only temporary. The crisis, which precedes the gender crisis, is brought up for the first time and serves as the primary driving force, pushing Barbie to solve it in the Real World.

In contrast, the patriarchal challenge/gender crisis Ken brings from the Real World appears more accidental, an extra incitement rather than the root of all crises. We witness a "reversal" of power relations in Barbieland, but in reality, it's only a surface-level reversal because this dreamy kingdom, composed of genderless figures, lacks a true sexual governance and exploitative political-economic system. The desire for recognition from the Real World turns out to be nothing more than a comical imitation of real-world masculinity. As Ken himself states, patriarchy has nothing to do with fashion or horses. In an effort to dismantle this imported patriarchal virus, Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach design an ideal model demonstration of the concept of "homosocial" desire among male figures: male solidarity and mutual recognition are based on objectifying women as sexual objects. Thus, we witness one of the most biting and densely packed compilations of heterosexual male jokes ever. This gender revolution orchestrated by Barbie to create dissent among the Kens reaches the pinnacle of childishness and entertainment during the exaggerated showdown on the beach, yet the playfulness doesn't dilute the underlying concept. The fragility and absurdity of "male bonding" lie in the fact that it is solely based on their possession of (sexual) resources rather than competition or confrontation. It also cannot tolerate the existence of non-heterosexual or sexual minority members (indicated by Alan's rainbow-colored clothing).

After Barbie successfully seizes power, the question of how to deal with Ken presents Greta Gerwig's authorial speculation once again. Ken's worship of masculine traits actually stems from his existential crisis, which, in turn, is a result of his commodity setting: he is merely an appendage to Barbie and only finds meaning when he gains her favor. This is imposed on him by the patriarchal-capitalist unified structure, making him a tool with strong patriarchal undertones used to please the female audience. On one hand, he is based on an attachment-to-the-attached relationship, the male counterpart of Eve (a pun on "beach" symbolizing this point). On the other hand, under patriarchy, men can only prove themselves as "normal" males by possessing a female spouse. From Barbieland 1.0 to Kendom, Ken is merely moving from one yoke to another. Subsequently, after Kendom's dissolution, Barbieland 2.0 demonstrates a third societal construct. Though it seems to be more inclusive than before, incorporating all the fringe characters, it merely appears to be more tolerant. In other words, it takes everyone previously excluded from the structure into its fold. We can see that Barbie (2023) doesn't aim to create a rigorous patriarchal treatise within its own framework but focuses on the existential crises under patriarchy and the question of how individuals should proceed. The author takes a clear stance, recognizing that all individuals are oppressed by patriarchy, and "patriarchy" and "Barbie" are two sides of the same coin. The movie indeed uses Ruth Handler's voice to point this out.

Barbie (2023) presents a clever feminist genre strategy. As a place of conceptual deduction, Barbieland fulfills its didactic mission, allowing comedy and feminist themes to complement each other within their respective frameworks. However, due to its constant entanglement with a deceptive strategy, it also constantly debunks itself. The juxtaposition of the Real World and Barbieland is because we all know that any revolution in the latter is superficial and insincere, and for the former, the film offers no solution. The author is fully aware that commodities are difficult to deconstruct or transcend their inherent attributes. No matter how much MATTEL promotes "Barbie can be anything" and introduces diverse characters, Barbie remains the perfect female symbol that merges patriarchy's gaze with capitalism's dream-selling. Feminism also struggles to break free from wishful storytelling within the comedic genre's framework. While Ken can find himself easily, what can Barbie become if she's not the perfect Barbie? After Sasha's sharp attack on Barbie, will she still stay with Barbie or become an Anti-Barbie? The film seems unable to provide definite answers to these questions.

Therefore, the true value of Barbie (2023) lies not only in demonstrating a feminist genre strategy that cleverly employs comedy to create a feminist thesis but also in its constant self-reflection on its own commodity attributes (both as a toy and as a movie). Although this reflection may not be truly powerful for the system as it eventually relies on trust in dismantling its own structure, Barbie's awakening as a "human" embodies the expectation for women to "choose" and no longer be shackled by female symbols. After all, becoming Barbie is impossible, even Barbie herself cannot stay perfect, so women should and can only become themselves rather than critiquing the structure. The movie is fully aware of this limitation.

Perhaps what Greta Gerwig truly wants to say is, "You (all girls) are not a Barbie 'doll' now." The secrets lie in that scene: Barbie sits on a bench in the Real World, closing her eyes, and listens to the chirping birds and rustling leaves. Afterward, she sighs, "Achy but Good," with tears in her eyes. She looks at the old lady next to her, who says, "You are beautiful," and the old lady smiles and replies, "I know." There are not many moments with such heterogeneous yet pure emotions, but the underlying sincerity is consistent with the strategies seen in PIXAR animations like Soul (2020). Every genuine film first pays ample attention to its characters, and Barbie (2023) is no exception. We can overlook its flaws and say that it's sincere enough.

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