Barbie is in the pink, doll
There’ve been Barbie films before – 42 of them – but this is the Barbie that matters.
Picture: Photography JUSTIN TALLIS / AFP
Making it apparently caused a global shortage of hot pink paint. Now, at last, Barbie is here.
There’ve been Barbie films before – 42 of them – but this is the Barbie that matters: the live-action one made by indie darling Greta Gerwig, the one for grownups (and accompanied kids).
We – my mum, li’l sis, himself, and me – went to see Barbie on opening weekend Saturday.
Pretty in pink
Li’l sis wore bubblegum pink from head to toe, with a Barbie pink cap. I wore Barbie pink trousers and a matching top, with white takkies for the pop. I put glitter on my eyelids, something I haven’t done since I was hit by the middle-aged bus.
Mum had on screaming pink socks. We’re all Barbies now: Pensioner Barbie, Special Needs Barbie, and Menopausal Barbie, probably not coming soon to a toy shop near you.
Except for himself. He’s just Ken. He wore navy. A lot of fun was had by at least three-quarters of our group.
The cinema was packed, buzzing in pink. The staff wore pink (non-mandatory – I checked); there were pink streamers, pink balloons, and massive pink Barbie doll boxes you could climb into.
People arrived dressed up like never before for a Saturday morning movie in pink suits, pink heels, pink hats, and pink boas.
And the film? It was brilliant. Pensioner Barbie – originally a refusenik – turned to me at the end and said: “Oh, I could happily just sit here and watch that all over again!”
Special Needs Barbie laughed, she cried, and now she only replies to “Barbie”.
And yet this Menopausal Barbie left feeling slightly depressed. I thought it might be the message of the movie, how we try and try, yet feel like a failure for not doing everything (like Barbie) and not being everything (like Barbie) and not looking great regardless (like Barbie), but that’s just life.
The issue was Ken, navy Ken, worrying-about-the-mortgage Ken, in-laws-are-here-for-threemonths Ken, whose mood had filtered into my hot pink excitement.
Maybe I am more like Barbie than I thought: my problem is my Ken. Perhaps the solution is to quote Barbie: “A giant blow-out party with all the Barbies and planned choreography and a bespoke song.” But no, I think it might be Oppenheimer.