by Ruben Rosario,
The choreography is tight and everybody is dancing up a storm. But we’re not in Barbie’s Dream House, and the people shaking their booties are not human-sized dolls but stage professionals. A scene in Bob Fosse’s “All That Jazz” has Roy Scheider’s alter ego for the filmmaker showing off a sequence for those putting up the money for a new show. The dancers start gyrating with mechanical efficiency, and the money men are pleased when they think it’s over. Only it’s not, you see, and Fosse unleashes a sultry, erotic routine that makes some audience members uneasy. (It’s the inspiration for Paula Abdul’s “Cold Hearted” video.) The intent comes through loud and clear: Scheider’s character is giving you what you came for, but then surprises you with something new, more exciting, dare I say a little dangerous?
I thought about this scene several times after seeing “Barbie,” Greta Gerwig’s pastel-hued confection (and current box office phenomenon) because a similar m.o. is being tried out. Working from a screenplay credited to Gerwig and Noah Baumbach (her partner in showbiz and in life), the “Lady Bird” director begins her foray into Mattel’s most instantly recognizable intellectual property as a featherweight tale, initially set in Barbie Land, the high-concept realm where the dolls you may or may not have played with at some point in your life frolic and party in ethnically diverse harmony, brought to life by a sea of familiar faces.
Overlooking this aggressively pink storybook setting is Margot Robbie’s blonde icon, named Barbie just like most of the other living and breathing manifestations of their toy counterparts, but more pointedly referred to Stereotypical Barbie. They live in a utopia where every day unfolds like the one before, and where the male “dolls,” predominantly named Ken, coexist in what is undeniably a matriarchy. Then there’s a platinum-blond Ken, played to perfection by Ryan Gosling, who pines hopelessly for Robbie’s Barbie. She, on the other hand, looks at the genial but more than a little dim beach dude as little more than window dressing, a neat accessory to her coterie of nightly party guests.
The permanent reverie is abruptly interrupted when Robbie’s Barbie blurts out, “Hey, do you guys ever think about dying?” That zinger brings her Dream House party to a standstill, albeit only for a few awkward moments. Even worse, she wakes up one morning to find her perennially inclined feet (the better to step into her high-heel pumps and sandals) are now drably flat on the ground. Gross! Barbie’s existential angst threatens to crack the pristine façade of her surroundings, so she seeks the guidance of the ostracized Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon, Morpheus to Robbie’s Neo). There’s only one thing to do, Weird Barbie reveals: she must go to the real world and find out what’s wrong with her human owner.
Off she goes in her pink mobile, which appears to play the Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Fine” on an endless loop, with Gosling’s Ken as a stowaway. So far, so easily digestible. Up until this point, “Barbie” plays like a clever variation on a commercial studio comedy. “Pleasantville” gone camp. Its creativity stands out, but it’s not as far removed from the star-driven vehicles of past movie summers as you might think.
However, as Barbie and Ken receive a rude awakening when they reach the sands of Santa Monica, Gerwig and Baumbach begin revealing their endgame, and “Barbie” gently but firmly bares its fangs as an incisive corporate satire and layered exploration of how both women and men pigeonhole themselves into rigid gender roles. Barbie’s wild goose chase takes her to Mattel’s executive suite, where the nameless CEO (Will Ferrell, a casting bull’s-eye) intends to put an end to this disruption of the real and Mattel brand worlds.
Anchoring the off-the-wall weirdness is disaffected Mattel employee Gloria (America Ferrera), who unexpectedly crosses paths with Barbie. It’s Gloria’s own ennui, and how it affects her relationship with her sullen teenage daughter Sasha (Ariana Greenblatt), that shepherds the movie past several rough spots where its thematic pursuits result in a handful of overwritten scenes that flirt with being preachy. The film could have also done without its omniscient narrator, voiced by Helen Mirren, who drives home points that are already eloquently conveyed by Gerwig through its visuals. Kudos to cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto (“Amores Perros,” “Brokeback Mountain”) and production designer Sarah Greenwood (“Atonement,” Guy Ritchie’s “Sherlock Holmes” movies) for enhancing the film’s playfulness and accentuating the contrasts between Barbie Land at various stages and the real world.
“Barbie” is suitable for older children (parents: I would say 10 and up), but it’s pretty clear they’re not the target audience here. It’s the people who were probably expecting a nostalgia machine, an easy-listening throwback to their childhoods. Instead, this “Barbie” calls them out on their biases and tunnel vision. It’s a whip-smart deconstruction of corporate politics and how the toys you played with, frequently divided into stuff for boys and stuff for girls, influenced how they view the world.
Gerwig and Baumbach lure viewers with the promise of squeaky clean pop-culture fun, all while Trojan-horsing a stranger, more complex battle of the sexes. There’s a musical number that pays tribute to filmmakers like Jacques Demy, Stanley Donen, and, yes, even Bob Fosse. That the filmmakers never lose sight that they’re making a light comedy just makes their achievement all the more resonant. Nowhere is that balance more ideally struck than in a monologue, expertly delivered by Ferrera, about the impossible balancing act a woman is often required to juggle. Ferrera, to these eyes the movie’s MVP, hits the scene out of the park, and you might be surprised by just how touching “Barbie” — wise, effervescent, deeply felt — actually is.