Recently, it came to my attention that I was one of the remaining four Americans who had not seen “Barbie.” In case you’re one of the other three, “Barbie” is a wildly popular movie that is making waves in all the headlines.
The New York Times recently said that “Barbie” is “...about becoming your own hero.” CNN stated that “Barbie” is “...Important for normalizing women’s health.” Toisto Magazine called “Barbie” the “most important film of the year.”
“Barbie” has reportedly impressed the Hollywood establishment because it proved that, to produce a hit movie you don’t need computer graphics, elaborate CGI effects, and a huge production budget to create hype. All you need is a huge promotional budget to create hype.
So I decided to see “Barbie” with my friend Dan, a former law-enforcement officer, who asked me to accompany him and his two daughters.
I haven’t been to the theater in a long time. I think the last movie I saw was “Steel Magnolias.” Mostly, because my people weren’t big movie goers. We were sanctified Baptists who did not believe in going to the movies for fear that it could lead to mixed bathing.
When we got there, the first thing I noticed was that lots of young women were there to see “Barbie.” I could tell this because they were all dressed in neon pink.
“I’ve seen ‘Barbie’ four times,” one 22-year-old woman told me. “It’s just a great movie, with an important message.”
I asked the young woman what this message was, exactly.
“Um,” she went on, “like, it’s about, like… Like. I don’t know. You just have to see it.”
Another group of teenage women stood in line with their boyfriends. The young women had already seen “Barbie” twice. This was their boyfriends’ first time.
“We made our boyfriends come with us this time,” said one the girls. “Because it’s a super good movie.”
“Oh my God,” said another young lady. “So good.”
Most of the boyfriends were clad in Barbie-themed, festive clothes. I asked one of the boys whether he was excited to see the movie and I asked whether I could quote him in a column I would be writing.
He gave me a sincere but thoughtful answer by saying, “My girlfriend made me wear these pink pants.”
So we waited in a long line because it was a weekend, and everyone was at the theater. Some were there to see the new Indiana Jones movie, which features an 81-year-old Harrison Ford starring in “Indiana Jones Takes a Nap.”
Other movie goers were there to see “Oppenheimer” a film about J. Robert Oppenheimer, who invented the atomic bomb. The film is directed by Christopher Nolan, a director who critics hail for blending “thrill rides with thoughtful narratives which pose complex and pressing ethical questions” such as, “When will this movie be over so I can go pee?”
We purchased our tickets for “Barbie,” and went into the dark theater. Once we nestled into our seats, the movie began, and I can honestly tell you I did not move a muscle for the duration of the film.
Namely, because my feet were glued to the floor because of movie-theater-floor gunk, which is an adhesive consisting of decade-old soft drink spills and petrified candy.
The movie began. The screen featured stunning set design, elaborate dance sequences, and wild costumes. The first thought I was struck with was, “Man, I’m really old.”
Because most of the starring cast was comfortably in their early 20s, with fit bodies that did not contain a thimble-full of adipose tissue. And every other word in their scripted sentences was “like.”
Admittedly, I am also out of touch with popular culture, so I, like, didn’t get most of the, like, jokes.
Dan’s daughters, however, were laughing with everyone else. Meantime, I was looking around wondering when, exactly, did movie theaters quit using ushers with flashlights. And what happened to the Wurlitzer organ?
The apex of the movie was a stirring scene which featured the movie’s title song, “What Was I Made For,” recorded by Billie Ellish, which had many in the theater sobbing. Admittedly, I was weeping too. Although, to be fair, I was crying because my ticket cost more than a three-bedroom beach condo.
When the film ended, we exited and passed the gaggle of teenage boyfriends, lingering in the lobby.
“Please don’t write about me wearing pink pants,” one boyfriend said.
Which I would never do.
I don’t need to see the movie. It could do nothing to enhance the gifts I received from playing with those toys. I was never interested in Barbie’s house, car, boyfriends, or careers. For me, she was all about the clothes.
I got a copy of the first Barbie with the dark ponytail, the black and white striped bathing suit, and black shoes for my 6th birthday (even though at 6, I personally thought it was weird to wear high heels with a bathing suit). I immediately adored her. I also received a couple ready made outfits, but best of all were the handmade clothes my beautiful Mom made. There was an amazing wedding dress (that my own wedding dress I made myself later mimicked), a beautiful cocktail dress, a tea dress, and a gorgeous skirt, blazer, and blouse (for conducting business, of course). There were shoes to go with each outfit. She even made a couple hats for the outfits, not to mention a beautiful bridal veil. I was so mesmerized that I immediately wanted more outfits whereupon my Mom taught me how to sew. I played with that Barbie and several sisters for years. I never had a Ken, since I was uninterested in men’s fashions. I did have a Midge, but she wasn’t my favorite. I was a Barbie purist. I was actually sort of put out when they started making the dolls with bendable knees. Maybe that was just me. I loved playing with those dolls. I learned to sew for them. I wore my first handmade dress (without Mom helping) to school in the 5th grade. My classmates were long used to noting a new outfit and asking if my Mom had made it. That day, I proudly announced that I had made it. Some of the snitches ran to the teacher and told on me for telling lies. She called me to her desk and meant to punish me. I cried like I was being killed. She called my Mom who read her the riot act. Next, the amazed teacher practically took the dress off me inspecting every seam and stitch. She said, “You really made this all by yourself?” I sobbed and snuffled, “Yes I did.” She told me to go sit down and the lessons resumed. That made me and my wardrobe quite famous. By 7th grade I didn’t wear a stitch I didn’t make myself. Later, when the bridal shops had nothing matching my vision, I made my own wedding dress in the style my beautiful Mom used for my very first Barbie. Barbie’s skirt was wildly voluminous. I toned down the wildly, but I had a beautiful full skirt. Barbie’s sleeves were puffier but only by a little bit. The lace covered bodice with the sweetheart neckline was an exact match. I credit Barbie and my beautiful Mom for my skills.
Hi Sean, I thought I was doing my part by occasionally wearing the pink shirt my wife bought me. But now I realize that it takes a real man to wear pink pants.