Independent film lovers know the brains behind “Barbie”- director Greta Gerwig (“Lady Bird”) and co-writer/husband Noah Baumbach (“Marriage Story”) and the result is a smart satiric social commentary. Making Mattel’s iconic doll into a family-friendly film is its only weakness- “Barbie’s” bite doesn’t draw blood- and the movie’s musings never rise above amusing.
Helen Mirren narrates “Barbie” and the opening shows shrewd filmgoers Barbie’s revolutionary importance – it’s a send-up of Kubrick’s Dawn of Man sequence from “2001: A Space Odyssey:” little girls playing with infant-sized dolls as the sun behind Barbie makes her appear like the Monolith; one girl throwing her doll over her head like Kubrick’s ape with the rib bone. Since Barbie’s creation in 1959, Barbie became a symbol not only of beauty but also of a woman’s potential in a male-dominated world for independence (she has her own Dream House) and equality despite her race (African-American Barbie premiered in1980).
In the film, we’re introduced to Barbieland where the dolls, all named Barbie, live. Margot Robbie plays stereotypical Barbie (the image we think of) as she begins her day waking in her Dream House. There are no walls on the house, so she can wave ‘Good Morning’ to neighboring Barbies as they awaken. Barbie showers and has breakfast (no water, no food), putting on her high heels in feet that are permanently arched. Barbie floats down to her convertible (as a child would place her in the car) and drives to the beach.
On her drive, we see only women run Barbieland- from sanitation to electrical linewomen and, upon passing a pink White House, learn the president is the aforementioned African-American Barbie (Issa Rae). Arriving at the beach, we meet the male dolls who are all named Ken (save for a discontinued male buddy doll for Ken named Allan (Michael Cera)). We’re introduced to boyfriend Ken (Ryan Gosling), whose raison d’etre is to have a puppy-dog infatuation with Barbie and ask to stay over at the Dream House each night, always being refused because every night is Girls’ Night at Barbie’s. When asked what they’d do if he did stay over, Ken replies, “I’m actually not sure.”
One night, during a dance at the Dream House, Barbie suddenly asks the other dolls if they’ve thought of death- like a dramatic record skip, the dolls stop dancing. Barbie makes it seem like she misspoke, but soon begins forming cellulite on her thighs and her permanently arched feet go flat. Because it’s weird, Barbie seeks the advice of Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon), a mistreated doll whose make-up is a markered face, hair crudely cut with scissors, and whose broken legs are permanently split.
Weird Barbie has the answer: Barbie must travel to the Real World and find the unhappy human responsible for putting these thoughts into Barbie’s head. To get to the Real World, Barbie must take different modes of travel once she crosses Barbieland’s border (snowmobile, tandem bike, etc.). When Barbie drives off for her adventure, boyfriend Ken is a secret stowaway.
It’s a clever set-up with clever characters and ideas, but the movie starts to lose its moxie when the Mattel CEO (an exasperated, underused Will Ferrell) starts chasing Barbie and Ken to put them back in their boxes. Upon their arrival in Real World, Barbie and Ken are arrested (twice) but are released- despite having no money, identification or fingerprints- instead of being detained for the FBI, who conveniently call Mattel regarding their AWOL dolls. The one redeeming plot point is boyfriend Ken being brainwashed by Real World’s male-dominated culture and turning Barbieland into Kendom, a world where the Kens fake-drink beer served by Barbies in French maid outfits.
Maybe I’m being too cynical because I don’t play with dolls (as far as you know), but when Barbie finds her unhappy girl way too quickly so the movie can get to a resolution where Barbie’s real-life creator Ruth Handler (Rhea Perlman) can impart wisdom, I get tired. While I credit Gerwig and Baumbach for impressing with their ideas, production design and faithfulness to Barbie’s history and lore, “Barbie” slides on its satire more than it skewers. Where I wanted a devilish decadence, I only got decency- but then again, it’s Barbie.