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Film Features Film/TV

Barbie

When it was announced that a Barbie movie was in the works, it’s safe to say that one of the questions that crossed everyone’s mind was “Why?”

Barbie’s dream universe has covered everything from nutcrackers to mermaid lore, and it seemed like Barbara Millicent Roberts was past her prime. The Y2K aesthetic only made room for Bratz dolls, and the meme-ification of American Girl dolls transformed them from status symbols to internet mainstays. Meanwhile, the opinion of feminist scholars who had long criticized Barbie for the outrageous beauty standards she perpetuated had gone mainstream. Girls still love their dolls, but Barbie’s star has burned out.

My interest was piqued when I heard Greta Gerwig would be tasked with telling Barbie’s story. The plot has been kept tightly under wraps, with rumors ranging from a Wizard of Oz-esque storyline to something like The Truman Show. Those rumors were not entirely wrong, but Barbie exists as its own film.

From the beginning, it’s evident that the film is a meta-narrative, which adds to the satirical charm. Helen Mirren narrates Barbie’s zeitgeist origin story in a 2001 Space Odyssey-themed sequence, in which she explains that the Barbie doll was created for girls to aspire to something other than motherhood. Barbie is aware of her existence in the world, and aware of the impact that she has had on society as a trailblazing role model for career-minded women. As Mirren notes in her narration, Barbie has solved all the problems of feminism and equality – or at least, that’s the lore in Barbieland.

Margot Robbie stars as the Stereotypical Barbie. She lives in Barbieland with an endless array of Barbie variants, such as Doctor Barbie (Hari Nef), Writer Barbie (Alexandra Shipp) and President Barbie (Issa Rae), who preside over this matriarchal democracy.

Many Barbies live in Barbieland. But only Margot Robbie’s Stereotypical Barbie has flat feet.

Then we meet the Kens, who are just as varied as the Barbies, only less cool. Ryan Gosling’s iteration of Barbie’s companion lists “beach” as his profession. But it’s not easy being a Ken. Mirren explains that while Barbie has a great day every day, Ken has a great day only if Barbie looks at him.

Barbie’s perpetual string of great days takes a turn for the worse when she brings one of her nightly blowout parties/soundstage musical numbers to a record-scratch halt when she blurts out, “Do you ever think about dying?” The next morning, she wakes up with bad breath, falls out of her dream house, and discovers that her feet have gone flat. Realizing that something is wrong, she pays a visit to Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon), who explains that the only way for Barbie to restore her perfect tiptoe and avoid cellulite is to trade in her heels for Birkenstocks and take a trip to the real world. Since Ken only exists as an ornamental addition to Barbie’s iconography, he joins her on the journey to reality, where they make discoveries that pose an existential threat to Barbieland’s women-run utopia.

Good morning, Barbieland!

The idea of a doll visiting the real world and learning to adjust to a life that’s not so fantastic was always in the cards for Barbie – the 2000 movie Life Size starring Tyra Banks walked so Robbie could run with Barbie. As she is catcalled by construction workers in Venice Beach, Barbie realizes misogyny did not end with Supreme Court Barbie. She suffers an existential crisis when she realizes that her very brand is determined by an all-male team led by Mr. Mattel (Will Ferrell.)  

Gerwig uses Barbie to explore the nuances of feminism, but the film never feels too heavy or takes itself too seriously. It helps that Mattel isn’t afraid to laugh at itself, like the recurring joke where Midge (Emerald Fennell), a pregnant version of Barbie that was deeply unpopular with kids, is banished to Skipper’s Treehouse. Gerwig’s attention to detail and dedication to the source material not only satiates a longing for nostalgia, but also showcases her intentionality. Since no child ever made a doll take the stairs in her Dream House, these Barbies float through the air from bedroom to dream car. Gerwig makes that floaty feeling last.

Categories
Letter From The Editor Opinion

Tigers, Redbirds, Trump, Porn, and Co-Yo

What a week it was. The football Tigers beat UCLA using a combination of great offense, timely defense, and good ol’ Mid-South heat and humidity. Those California dudes never knew what hit ’em.

And the Memphis Redbirds won the Pacific Coast League championship, beating out all the other teams on the Pacific Coast, including the Nashville Sounds, El Paso Chihuahuas, Omaha Storm Chasers, and the fearsome New Orleans Baby Cakes.

To sum it up: Memphis 2, “Pacific Coast” 0.

It was a week where I found myself agreeing with Donald Trump, at least for a few hours. After a Wednesday night meeting with Democratic Congressional leaders, “Cryin’ Chuck” Schumer and Nancy Pelosi, Trump began his Thursday morning by tweeting: “Does anybody really want to throw out good, educated, and accomplished young people who have jobs, some serving in the military? Really!” Followed by: “They have been in our country for many years through no fault of their own — brought in by parents at young age.”

The paleo wing of the GOP went nuts. Ann Coulter tweeted, “Who doesn’t want to impeach Trump?” Sean Hannity blamed it all on Mitch McConnell for “forcing” his hero to “work with Democrats.”

Trump had seemingly done a complete flip-flop on DACA overnight. My guess is that Pelosi shook Trump’s hand and said, “Oh my, it’s so BIG!!” and Trump agreed to everything she asked, including a deal to save the Dreamers and turn the border wall into a cheery Tex-Mex restaurant.

Sadly, the “deal” only lasted a few hours, and Trump quickly deleted his tweets.

So it goes with this guy. Save DACA. Eliminate DACA. Build the wall, and the Mexicans will pay for it. The wall’s already being built, and we’ll bill Mexico later. Wall? What wall? Trump is a presidential pinball, caroming from one “decision” to another, depending on the last player who flips him.

So what else happened? Oh yeah, Ted Cruz got caught watching porn, or better said, “liking” a porn video with his Twitter account. The New Yorker‘s Andy Borowitz tweeted: “Porn Industry Irrevocably Damaged by Association with Ted Cruz.” Cruz blamed it on his staff, of course. His staff. Huh-huh.

The Emmys happened. Alec Baldwin won an award for his Saturday Night Live impression of Trump. Kate McKinnon won for her SNL impression of Hillary Clinton. And America wept, thinking either of these two comedians would probably make a better president than what we’ve got. Then Sean Spicer got up and reprised his acting gig from the actual White House, and the already fuzzy line between reality and comedy was blurred beyond recognition.

What else? Oh yeah, Trump supporters held the “Mother of All Rallies” in Washington, D.C., on Saturday. About 800 people showed up. Which, as someone pointed out on Twitter, is what happens when you name your march after Mike Pence’s wife. The MOAR crowd was outnumbered by a marching contingent of Juggalos, who are fans of the band, Insane Clown Posse. Write your own Trump joke. You can’t make this stuff up. Though I kind of wish you could.

Back in Memphis, 130,000 people attended the Cooper-Young Festival. I heard a record 37,000 windchimes were sold. I also heard we’re supposed to call Cooper-Young “Co-Yo” now. And I got this from a beardy guy drinking a craft beer, so it must be true.

Overton Park Conservancy director Tina Sullivan went to the Co-Yo Fest and tweeted: “Highlight of this year’s CY Fest was the elderly gentleman asking my opinion on public nudity & saying he might organize a Naked Bike Ride.”

First, I’d like to say that I’m not that “elderly.” And second, I think we should do it around the Nathan Bedford Forrest statue as it’s being taken down.

And in a final somber note to a weird week, British writer Kathy Lette wrote: “Sad news. I’ve just heard that the bloke who invented predictive text has pissed away. His funfair is next monkey.”

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Ghostbusters

Why remake Ghostbusters?

A perfect movie is a rare beast. To make every shot work, every actor deliver, to land every script beat requires skill, vision, and luck. The 1984 Ghostbusters originated in the fevered brain of Dan Aykroyd while he was in the middle of one of comedy’s greatest hot streaks. The OG SNL star conceived of three movies to feature him and his best friend, John Belushi: The Blues Brothers, Ghostbusters, and Spies Like Us. Just as the unlikely success of The Blues Brothers gave the pair the run of Hollywood, Belushi OD’d. Aykroyd and Caddyshack director Harold Ramis retooled Ghostbusters‘ insane first draft, which featured psychedelic scenes of astrally projecting Ghostbusters fighting hordes of interdimensional spectres, as a more grounded ensemble movie set in New York City.

In 1984, all the pieces fell together for producer/director Ivan Reitman to make the quintessential action comedy. Aykroyd and Ramis created a pair of indelible geek icons in the schlubby Ray Stantz and the Spock-like Egon Spengler. Sigourney Weaver did duel duty as symphony musician Dana Barrett and gatekeeper spirit Zuul, playing off of Rick Moranis as a geeky accountant possessed by the Keymaster Vinz Clortho. The role of Winston Zeddmore was originally offered to Eddie Murphy, but when he turned it down in favor of Beverly Hills Cop, Ernie Hudson stepped into the thankless role of audience surrogate. Looking back on Ghostbusters from the perspective of 2016, it’s clear that Bill Murray is the key to the picture’s success. His Lothario con man turned paranormal investigator Peter Venkman is a perfectly pitched performance worthy of Chaplin, Keaton, or Cleese.

Remaking Ghostbusters seemed a fool’s errand. Reitman captured lightning in a bottle, an artifact of a certain moment when all the players were at the top of their game, by mixing ’80s horror beats with Second City gonzo yucks. Even the core creative team couldn’t reproduce the magic. Remember Ghostbusters II? Of course not. You might as well try to remake Casablanca.

This was the task set before director Paul Feig. In a move that upset a vocal hoard of internet man-babies, the creator of Freaks and Geeks upped the already impossible difficulty level by gender-swapping the characters. Well, I’m here to tell you that the Men’s Rights movement picked the wrong hill to die on.

Leslie Jones, Melissa McCarthy, Kristen Wiig, and Kate McKinnon don the proton packs in Paul Feig’s remake of Ghostbusters.

Feig surmised that the secret of Ghostbusters was in the chemistry, and the director of Bridesmaids knows funny women. The team of Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon, and Leslie Jones is even more finely balanced than Murray, Aykroyd, Ramis, and Hudson. Wiig’s Erin Gilbert, a former paranormal investigator trying to get tenure as a physics professor at straight-laced Columbia University, can’t touch the crystalline genius of Murray, but she’s a good fit for this version. McCarthy hones her wild talent with discipline and precision, turning in the best performance of her career as Abby, the Ray Stantz analog. Feig and Parks and Recreation writer Katie Dippold’s script gives Jones’ character, Patty, a New York transit employee who gets sucked into the Ghostbusters’ world, more to do than Hudson, and the film is all the better for it. The most perverse casting choice is Chris Hemsworth in a hybrid of Sigourney Weaver and Annie Potts’ cynical receptionist; Thor rises to the occasion by whipping out previously unseen comedy chops. But it’s McKinnon who slyly steals the show. McKinnon reworks Ramis with a brash physicality. Geeks are cool now, but McKinnon, who takes her look from the animated version of Egon, avoids the autistic minstrel show approach epitomized by The Big Bang Theory and wrings more depth out of renegade techie Holtzmann than the script provides.

As long as Feig and Dippold follow Aykroyd and Ramis’ beats, the movie hums along, but when they attempt to graft on a parody of The Avengers climax in place of the intimate confrontation with Gozer the Destructor, the film spins out of control. Still, speaking as an old school Ghostbusters fan, this remake is better than it has any right to be. In 1984, Ghostbusters was a standout in a quality field that included Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Purple Rain, and fellow action comedy classics Gremlins and Romancing the Stone. 2016’s Ghostbusters comes as a sip of water in a historic drought. Feig has pulled off the impossible by successfully reworking an unlikely masterpiece, and everyone involved deserves major kudos.

But seriously, let’s not try to remake Casablanca, OK?