As a self-proclaimed Barbie enthusiast, I have been looking forward to the Barbie movie for quite some time. I circled Barbie release day on my calendar (in pink, of course) when it was announced 11 months ago, and I’ve been counting down the days ever since. And for the record, I’m not just jumping on the bandwagon (or in this case, into the hot pink convertible) when I say that I love Barbie. Look no further than my phone wallpaper or the shelves in my bedroom if you need to see my credentials. That said, I also felt it was important to leave my Barbie biases outside the theatre and to watch with an open and honest mind. So, without further ado, this is an unbiased review of the Barbie movie, written by a biased Barbie lover.

This review contains spoilers.

Greta Gerwig’s Barbie is set in matriarchal Barbie Land, where Stereotypical Barbie (Margot Robbie), along with the rest of her fellow Barbies are self-sufficient and successful working women. They are doctors, scientists, athletes, and political leaders. Not only are these Barbies accomplished, but they also take full credit for their own accomplishments and celebrate them unapologetically. Meanwhile, the Kens of Barbie Land, including Beach Ken (Ryan Gosling), spend their days relaxing by the beach, cheerleading, and trying to impress their Barbies. When Stereotypical Barbie begins to experience “malfunctions,” she travels to the real world, accompanied by Ken, to find the source of these malfunctions and return to normal.

The Barbie movie covers a lot of ground in a very short amount of time. It doesn’t shy away from complex or controversial subject matter (namely patriarchy and misogyny), and most of the criticisms I’ve heard are related to the movie’s handling of these topics. But despite the prominence of these themes in Barbie, they are all ultimately bookended by Barbie’s decision at the beginning of the movie to leave Barbie Land and rid her body of imperfection, and her decision at the end of the movie to leave Barbie Land again, this time to become a human being, prone to the imperfections she once sought to alleviate. While she once was repulsed by her cellulite, cold showers, and thoughts of death, now she begs for and embraces a body that will change, experience discomfort, and eventually die. In this sense, Barbie Land’s run-in with patriarchy, which is so controversial among reviewers, is arguably secondary to Barbie’s own personal journey of self-love and self-actualization.

To me, that’s what the Barbie movie is all about. It’s not a story of man vs. woman: It’s a celebration of womanhood and of the beauty to be found in our complexities as human beings.

There’s an especially poignant and evocative scene in Barbie that perfectly encapsulates this message. Shortly after arriving in the real world, Barbie sits down next to an old woman on a park bench. After spending several moments sitting in silence and people-watching, Barbie tells the woman she is beautiful. She responds, “I know it,” and the two women, young and old, laugh together. 

I read an interview of Greta Gerwig, and she speaks briefly of this scene: “It’s a cul-de-sac of a moment, in a way— it doesn’t lead anywhere. And in early cuts, looking at the movie, it was suggested, ‘Well, you could cut it. And actually, the story would move on just the same.’ And I said, ‘If I cut the scene, I don’t know what this movie is about.’ That’s how I saw it. To me, this is the heart of the movie.”

This scene represents the first moment in which Barbie recognizes that beauty isn’t all about high heels and smooth skin, but that there is profound beauty to be found in the complexities and realities human life. So much so that Barbie will eventually choose these things over her previous plastic perfection.

The tone of that scene on the park bench is particularly intimate and emotional, but I found that a lot of the playful and comedic scenes also serve to further illustrate this message. One of my favourite examples is the very last scene of the movie, in which Barbie, human for the first time, marches up to the receptionist of a doctor’s office and overenthusiastically announces: “I’m here to see my gynecologist!” I’ve heard so many people criticize Barbie for its rapid shifts in tone (One reviewer described their theatre experience as giving them “whiplash”). But I truly can’t think of a more effective way to show a genuine celebration of even the most uncomfortable aspects of womanhood than through Barbie’s carefree excitement to see her gynecologist.

But is pain and discomfort really a cause for celebration? Why should Barbie choose to return to a world that oppresses her and pushes her around?

Greta Gerwig points us towards the answer at the end of the movie, when Barbie speaks to her creator, Ruth Handler, about her decision to become human. Ruth warns Barbie that to become human means to sacrifice the comforts and guarantees of her previous life, and Barbie responds that she doesn’t want to be the “idea” anymore, and that instead she wants to be the one to create.

There’s a Japanese art called Kintsugi that involves repairing broken ceramics with lacquer and gold, creating winding golden patterns where once there were cracks and scars. It is built on the idea that embracing flaw and imperfection is the gateway to unique, transcendent creation. 

And to me, this idea is at the heart of the Barbie movie. Barbie celebrates the mediums of expression that each of us possesses as human beings to tell our unique and creative stories, inspired in us by our individual sets of experiences, however challenging or difficult they may be.

And that’s exactly what the movie is: Greta Gerwig’s unique and creative story.

At the end of the Barbie movie, America Ferrera has a monologue about the impossible double standards that women are held to (they have to be thin but not too thin, they have to have money but they can’t ask for money, they have to be a boss but they can’t be mean, etc.). And then she says, “And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don’t even know.”

In the few weeks since the Barbie movie came out, I have heard so many different critiques, a lot of which contradict each other in an almost comical way. It got me thinking about Ferrera’s monologue and the fact that everything that Ferrera’s character says about womanhood is not only true about a doll representing a woman; It’s also true about a movie representing a doll representing a woman. People expected it to accomplish something without being too preachy, to embody “girl power” without offending men, to speak to our nostalgia without being fanservice. It had to be exciting, but not so exciting that we actually went out and bought Barbies, because that would make it a glorified toy ad with a capitalist agenda. It had to be funny, but it still had to say something, but it couldn’t have too many tone shifts.

I’m not trying to say that Barbie shouldn’t be critiqued. The fun part about art is that everyone responds to it differently. But Barbie doesn’t need to single-handedly solve a social problem or answer for every Barbie-related controversy that has ever come up or make every audience member happy. Barbie is the fun and creative output of a woman with a unique story to tell and a voice with which to tell it, and that should be “kenough.”

If you're one of my blog's more avid readers, you've probably heard all about my unrelenting love for Barbie movies. In case you haven't though, Mattel Creation's original films prevail in the memories of pretty much any sentimental teenager born past the year 2000, myself included. Between the memorable songs, the innovative costumes, and the heartfelt story lines, the "Barbie Cinematic Universe" (as it's been dubbed by fans) is timeless, and never seems to lose its magic.
One of my favourites, Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper, follows the parallel narratives of Anneliese, a spirited princess bound in an arranged marriage to save her kingdom from bankruptcy, and Erika, an indentured servant working as a seamstress to pay off her parents' debt. When they meet under unusual circumstances, not only do they discover their identical appearances, but also the similar nature of the burdensome duties they've resigned themselves to fulfill, even though it means letting go of their dreams.

I could go on for pages about the movie's compelling characters and captivating plot, but in hopes that I've convinced you to check it out for yourself, I'll refrain from spoiling it too much. Instead, I want to touch on this film's revolutionary impact on the world of Barbie movies, as well as children's media in general.

The original Barbie narrative started back in 1959, advertising the classic concept that a girl's value was contingent on her attractiveness to men. Young women intuitively saw these dolls as role model figures, and strove to fit into their narrowly defined mold of what "attractiveness" meant. This was, and is, one of Mattel's most common critiques: the toxic directive that if you aren't conventionally attractive, you aren't acceptable.

That isn't to say role models are inherently bad, though. In fact, I would argue they're the opposite. When you see someone you identify with being something or doing something, it gives you a sense of what's equally possible for yourself. In sociology, this framework of feasibility is known as a "plausibility structure." Whether consciously or not, everyone lives according to a set of boundaries, or a plausibility structure, established by the skills and margins of the people they look up to.

That's the stem of Mattel's initial problem. Its original line of dolls presented a restricted plausibility structure, in that it excluded girls of colour, plus-sized girls, and queer girls from achieving the same level of success as tall, blonde, Barbie-like girls. But where the early dolls failed, Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper prevailed. Along with implementing a plausibility structure grounded in reality, by being the first Mattel film not to involve magic, fairies, or any fantastical elements, the entire movie is a subversion of the wonted Barbie narrative.

When Anneliese and Erika meet for the first time, Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper identifies the importance of having role models, or "girls like you," by means of an undeniably catchy musical number.

In the same way that Anneliese and Erika are like one another, Barbie-owning kids have aspired to be like their dolls for over sixty years. This film, however, is one of the first to subvert the anticipated narrative, foiling the audience's expectations and challenging their pre-existing values. Because once the film makes it clear that, yes, there is validity in having role models, it goes on to show that this doesn't limit us to a cemented construct.

This idea embodies itself in Wolfie's subplot. If you haven't seen the movie, Wolfie is Erika's adorably charming pet barking cat. After meeting the princess's cat, however, Wolfie starts learning to meow in an attempt to change himself and fit the mold of what it means to be a cat. A second, equally effective song confirms that while the people (or cats) in your life should inspire you, influence you, and broaden your plausibility structure, it is ultimately most important to be true to who you are. Or as Erika puts it, "if you bark, celebrate it."


All this, not to mention the historical accuracy, expert songwriting, and admittedly some childhood nostalgia, has made Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper a fan favourite. Growing up with such progressive media has altered the way I look at the different relationships that have influence in my life, and I'm sure there are others who can say the same. Everyone needs someone to look up to, and someone to embrace your differences with, which is why knowing "a girl like you" is so important.

If you were raised in the early 2000's, the chances are pretty high that you were grew up on Mattel Creations Barbie movies. You know the ones- Princess and the Pauper, 12 Dancing Princesses, Diamond Castle, the list goes on.

Looking back, the animation was always a little unsettling, and the more movies you watched, the harder it was to tell each character apart. But by the power of nostalgia, those 90 minute features hold an important place in the hearts of most Gen Z's.

When I was in grade 1, a student who had recently immigrated from China enrolled in my school. She didn't speak a word of English but, like me, had spent the first six years of her life religiously studying Barbie movies. We navigated the language barrier by reenacting our favourites at recess, which sparked a life long friendship.

And sure, maybe Barbie wasn't as influential on your childhood as it was on mine, but she's been around for over 60 years, and she's indubitably left an impression on the majority of today's youth.

It might not have been a good impression, though.

There's a lot of controversy about Barbie's unrealistic proportions. Barbie has represented perfection and ideals for women around the world since 1959, and she is constantly criticized for promoting an unachievable body image for young girls. Her waist is tiny and her face is always caked with makeup.

Galia Slayen put it perfectly in her 2011 article, The Scary Reality of a Real-Life Barbie Doll: "If Barbie were a real woman, she'd have to walk on all fours due to her proportions".

And it's not just her body that evokes dysphoria in young girls. Slumber Party Barbie was released in 1965 and was sold with a number of accessories, including a scale, a mirror, and a little diet book entitled "How to Lose Weight: Don't Eat!"



I'm the first to admit that these expectations are disturbing and toxic. Slumber Party Barbie is completely inexcusable.

But the Barbie that kids are growing up with today is not the same Barbie that kids grew up with half a century ago.

Most of us remember back in 2016 when Mattel released its new line of Barbies which came with 3 new body types. We now have tall Barbies, petite Barbies, and curvy Barbies. But it didn't stop there. We have Barbies with hijabs, Barbies with wheelchairs, Barbies with cellulite. Barbies now come with seven different skin tones, 22 different eye colours, and 24 different hairstyles.

When I think of today's Barbie, I don't think of a skinny, ditzy blonde. I think of a celebration of real beauty.

And yes, Barbie is far from perfect. But she's improving every year.

A few months ago, a video popped up on my YouTube feed that completely illustrates my point. It was by a channel called Barbie Vlogs.

It was probably curiosity and nostalgia that led me to the video. I wasn't expecting to enjoy it- I think I just wanted to know what had happened to the foundation of my childhood. But once I had clicked on one episode, I was instantly hooked. Before I knew it, 3 hours had passed.

It was a 3 minute animation called Feeling Blue? You're Not Alone. It was formatted like a standard vlog channel: Barbie starts her camera, sits down at her desk, and starts talking to her subscribers.


At that point, I expected a makeup tutorial or a slime video, but I kept watching.

Barbie opens by confessing that she woke up that morning feeling blue. "No real reason that I can think of" she says, "just blue". Then she gives viewers a list of her favourite strategies to deal with her sadness. She journals every night before bed. She organizes her room. She exercises. She talks to people. She even has a Buddhist meditation that she demonstrates on camera.

She goes on to admit that sometimes these strategies don't work, and discusses what happens then.

But I won't spoil everything she talks about, because I highly recommend watching the video yourself.

The next day, I told my friend- the one I played Barbies with at recess in grade 1- about the YouTube channel, and I'll admit, I received some backlash. For someone who grew up on the Princess and the Pauper, it's hard to even acknowledge the new Barbie. But I found this channel really powerful, because it tells girls what they need to hear. Not just that they should be skinny, wear makeup, and think about boys, but that it's normal to be sad, and it's normal to not know why, and it's normal to not feel normal.

I love that there's a free, accessible, realistic role model for today's kids to follow. And I know that as our society becomes more educated, Barbie will continue to improve.

And that's why Barbie is more than just a doll.