BARBIE (D+) - I. Can't. Even. This was by far the worst experience I had watching a movie in the past year. It's a pompous pop-art swipe at the patriarchy and shallow consumer culture. But, like the dolls it depicts, it can't wipe the smug smirk off its face over the course of two -- yes, two -- hours.
I am now regretting the union of Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach, who separately have been responsible for some of the best films of the past two decades,* and not because it ruined his marriage, but because it has derailed their careers. Indulge them with bigger and bigger budgets, and their worst instincts get vomited up on the screen, like this technicolor yawn that they wrote together and she directed. "Barbie" is by turns dumb, boring and insulting. Here's a neat trick: waste Margot Robbie's acting talents while somehow rendering Issa Rae, Will Ferrell, Kate McKinnon and Michael Cera unfunny.
You can feel Gerwig and Baumbach patting each other on the back (or him patting her on the head) with each clanging line of dialogue or wince-inducing sight gag. Nobody dared tell them how brutal this turned out. That is some sort of privilege.
But then, how tone-deaf am I? This made a billion dollars and has been held up as a profound work of staggering genius. Don't mind me. The culture passed me by years ago; I'm cool with that. At one point -- thankfully watching this on HBO Max and not trapped in a theater -- I started folding laundry to pass the time and to tell myself I wasn't shedding critical brain cells. And I can report that the household task felt more intellectually challenging than this movie. Admittedly, I did have to match socks.
So, if it was so infuriating, why didn't I turn it off? I couldn't look away from the fast-paced slow-motion wreck. (It does have a great punchline at the end.) I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing something. Ryan Gosling was occasionally amusing as Ken (at least he fully committed to the concept). But the rest of the Keystone Kops here with their cartoon car chases and sophomoric satire? Bumbling amateurs. I literally groaned aloud more than once at either the dialogue or the ideas. (The filmmakers' concept of a defining trait of all men is that they all love ... horses. Huh? Are they thinking of 12-year-old girls?) The songs are tuneless and dreadful. Brace yourself for a lecture on the rigors of motherhood.
It hurt watching Robbie celebrate -- yet try to winkingly sabotage -- an iconic doll and the impact that toy has had on our understanding of women for six decades. In the movie, girls mock Barbie as fascist and irrelevant, and you're not sure which insult stings more. Gerwig and Baumbach are, of course, self-aware that they are misusing "fascist," so they follow it up with some tone-deaf meta analysis. At some point, though, if you're not careful (or if you get greedy), no amount of ironic detachment will save you from becoming the thing you mock.
You might think that I'm not the target audience, and it's perhaps not my place to weigh in on ... whatever this is supposed to represent. Fair point. And only 12 people read what I write, anyway, so the joke's on us. But, ah, I am a key demographic data point here. Who else are the former doyenne of Mumblecore and the hipster indie filmmaker (who goes back to 1995) speaking to than this middle-aged student of cinema for the past three decades?
They tried this same crap a year ago with author Don DeLillo and their adaptation of "White Noise," a self-satisfying pretension to artsy storytelling. (Baumbach directed; Gerwig sleepwalked through it.) That featured a bloated budget, an interminable running time, and intellectual belches that must smell like peppermint to each other. Just wait for them to become the beloved it-couple in front-row seats at awards shows, head-nodding toward Wes Anderson in the back.
The whole exercise made me deeply question pop culture in general and my love of movies in particular. If Gerwig and Baumbach want to be rich and famous and pretend that they are doing so ironically, I wish them all the best. Be in love. But don't assault me with some imperious parade of platitudinal ... ugh, this is tiring. I'll never get the pink bubblegum out of my hair.
Time to shave my head, proceed to a zen monastery, and clear out my mind. Will seven years of penance and contemplation cleanse my soul?
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* - Baumbach and Gerwig have been hit-and-miss together. "Frances Ha" was brilliant. "Mistress America" was a disaster.
BONUS TRACK
Our title track, or at least title album -- and a reminder that I'm an old white guy from the suburbs -- Nick Lowe with "Lovers Jamboree":
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