My Review Of The Barbie Movie

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...Continued from yesterday:
Okay, in yesterday's post (https://www.ailantha.com/blog/i-dont-want-to-hear-a-word-about-the-barbie-movie) I stated my intention to go and see "Barbie" today but promised not to share anything about the movie for the sake of those who, like my yesterday self, were looking forward to seeing the movie and savoring the freshness and surprise of every minute.
However, as Nicolo Machiavelli might say (in fact, did say), the promise given was a necessity of the past; the word broken is a necessity of the present. Thus I feel that giving my review of "Barbie" is a necessity of the present. So if you don't want to read about the movie, best to stop here.
On the other hand, if you're planning on going to see "Barbie," and especially if you're planning, as I was, on taking a little girl with you, mayhaps you really should read this review first.
Having been a Barbie superfan from the time I was seven years old,

...I was, as I shared in yesterday's post, madly looking forward to seeing the Barbie movie. I imagined it would be fun and funny, but first and foremost a children's movie, full of droll antics and situations that would entertain the young ones, but with some wit and references thrown in that would tickle us adults as well. Considering that the afternoon matinee that I attended was filled with parents and children - some appeared to be as young as three or four - I'm guessing that was the general expectation surrounding this flick.
So, then, did "Barbie" live up to my expectations? No. Not a bit. Did I enjoy it? No. Not a bit.
Did I think "Barbie" was dumb, cynical, gimmicky, mean-spirited, clichéd, silly (not in a good way) and, in spite of its neon pink color palette, a drag? Did I start wishing about twenty minutes in that the movie would hurry up and get over with? Yes to both.
Was "Barbie" a story about Barbie? uh-uh. Was it a children's movie? Absolutely uh-uh.
I mean, I guess scenes showing Barbie in her cheery pink world feeling depressed, gripped with an existential identity crisis and contemplating thoughts of her death and impending physical decline (starting with cellulite) were meant to be hilariously clever, and, what do I know, maybe they were,

...but I was frankly glad I hadn't brought my grand daughters to see this, and I felt uncomfortable for all the young children in the theater - bored, unengaged children who, judging from all the noisy fidgeting and comings and goings in and out of the theater, weren't getting what was happening on the screen. Or at least I hope they weren't.
As I sat watching "Barbie," enjoying myself about as much as the angst-ridden screen Barbie was enjoying herself,

...it occurred to me that Greta Gerwig, who wrote and directed the film, must not have played with Barbie dolls, must not have loved Barbie dolls, and definitely did not understand Barbie dolls.
What I saw on the screen was some sort of mixed metaphor grinding a number of gender-related (I mean, I think they were gender-related, though I'm not a hundred percent sure) cultural axes, but the first and foremost one was that tired, over-preached, false old myth that playing with Barbie dolls promotes unhealthy gender stereotypes and poor self-image in girls. And this loudly-broadcast message is what I found most annoying about the Barbie movie. Because any girl who grew up playing with and loving Barbie dolls knows that just the opposite is true...
To be continued...

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