BARBIE and Stakes

Six months later, we finally watched BARBIE.

There’s a lot of nonsense I could throw out there, about how being a parent means you don’t get a lot of time to sit and watch what’s new and what’s hot, but instead I’ll pretend you know all that and just get into talking about the film.

To start: I can see why Ryan Gosling was nominated (at time of writing) for the Academy Award. I can also see why Robbie and Gerwig were not nominated.

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Not to say this wasn’t a competently made film. Far from it, as the sets and costume design and musical numbers were all brilliant. The Ken War was a particular highlight, for me, as every guy on set was giving it his all to make it the most non-violent violent war imaginable.

But you get the feeling in your stomach, don’t you? When things aren’t sitting right with a movie. Something stands out, a scene doesn’t land, and you have to ask yourself, “Yeabuwha?” Because my time is limited, and I don’t want this to be too rambly, I’ll focus on one aspect of the film that completely took me out: The Stakes.

Stakes are important in a film like this. Genre fiction, especially, needs clearly defined rules and stakes for the audience to go along with the concept of what you’re presenting. I’ve been reading comic books since I was eight years old and if the stakes weren’t there, or were ignored by the end, then the entire premise of what you present falls away. Shows like DOCTOR WHO deal with this constantly. You want time travel stories? Then you better make it abundantly clear what happens when time gets messed with.

Rules matter. And that’s not just because I’m a big board game guy, either. Though. I guess, that’s part of it.

Why is the Barbie World connected to Venice Beach? What would happen if the real world and the Barbie World blended together? Why is everyone at Mattel not an ACTUAL threat but just a bunch of goofballs? Why is the Real World as silly as the Barbie World?

Questions I didn’t churn up out of nowhere. These came just from watching. It does make me nervous, as someone who wants to write genre fiction, what people might assume when they read my stuff someday. Maybe they’ll get the same feeling in their stomachs and walk away from the book going, “No. Not for me.”

At the end of the film, for me, I felt Ken’s story was more fleshed out, more nuanced, and more deserving, which sounds HORRIBLE for a film called BARBIE. Especially coming from me.

A man.

Discussing this film.

But I hope my intent is clear and unmistakable. I liked this film, but it in no way was a film the caliber of being nominated for Best Film at the Oscars. Just further proof the Oscars are silly, silly bollocks.

I will say, Gerwig and Co. tapped into ONE thing that could have made this film truly special. Not just, “Remember that time in 2023 when we saw this and Oppenheimer’s butt in the same weekend?” special, but SPECIAL special. It’s that thing only genre fiction can do, and when they do it right, makes it the purest way to access elements of life no other form of story can.

It’s when Barbie, played wonderfully in this scene by Robbie, sits on the bench in the real world trying to find her owner, the person playing with her. She closes her eyes, and using some mysterious, inexplicable telepathy, finds her. And is sad. Overwhelmed with this feeling she looks around at the trees, the playing families, a fighting couple, a lonely man, and, finally, an older woman next to her. Barbie, from the land of perfect people, doesn’t know what to say. There is no comprehension for what she’s witnessing sitting alongside her on the bench. This is a woman of plastic watching a woman of flesh and blood and age and time. It’s overwhelming. It’s a sensation none of us could ever experience because, duh, we’re not toys in the Real World. But Robbie sells it wonderfully. It’s shock, intrigue, sadness, and wonder, all rolled up into one scene.