He’s such a nice guy, and a friend of mine for over two decades. And, he had to do it, weigh in on Barbie, which he’d just, finally, seen. He didn’t like it, listing all the reasons why in his Fakebook post, adding that he ‘hoped he wouldn’t lose friends over this’. Oh please. It wasn’t made for you, dude. You also have a pretty low opinion of your friends if you think you’ll lose them over an expressed opinion. You’re entitled to your point of view. Thanks for sharing, I guess? But, I do wonder why you felt the need to share your opinion publicly, other than, possibly, a need to make the conversation around Barbie just a teensy-weensy bit about you, centering your opinion, stirring the pot, pronouncing your disdain for a film that wasn’t made with an elderly, non-Barbie playing in his youth, ex-military white man in mind. JHFC.
In other words, just shut the fuck up. I didn’t comment in that manner, of course, being the peacemaker that I am, uh, not. I simply commented that it wasn’t made with you or your POV in mind and that after sixty years of sitting through male-centered films, including the recent formulaic and entirely forgettable Tetras and Air, maybe men can sit through a few thousand films over a century plus that are female centered, including multiple flicks that feature a female toy, game, or piece of apparel, although one could also argue that there is no such thing as a female toy or game, unless you need a vagina to play with it. But, that aside, Barbie was not made with men in mind, and she was, predominantly, a toy with which girls, not boys, played.
One of the many reasons I love the films of the thirties and early forties is that they are, inevitably, female driven. Not always, not all of them, but much more so than in any time since, and often women and men play verbal tennis; they are equals in a narrative that features both male and female as fun, flirty, driven, egotistical, kind, stupid, wise, complex. What’s not to like about that? Palm Beach Story, It Happened One Night, Mr. Deeds Goes To Town, The Lady Eve, Ball of Fire, You Can’t Take It with You, Bringing Up Baby, The Awful Truth, To Be Or Not To Be, A Free Soul, Red Dust…and so many others. There are those who believe the imperial ambitions put in hyper-drive during America’s post-war period (*caveat: we have always been at war, since WW2 and this narrative came into play)elevated ‘our’ version of masculinity in a manner that reflected the newly dominant narrative and culture of white men, white male saviors, white male desires, white male maleness. American men won the war, beating Hirohito and Hitler, right? Without G.I. Joe, we’d all be speaking German, ja? Lest we forget, or never knew, John Wayne, did not, ever, serve in combat; his pro-war, pro-masculinity films, including the more subtle and profound (and gorgeously shot) The Searchers, are fantasies, fantasies that personally make me wanna puke. Bo-Ring.
(And don’t even get me started on the entire oeuvre of David Mamet or Martin Scorsese. Or a dozen other male director/writers/filmmakers)
James Bond is fun, and lord knows I think Daniel Craig et al. are hot (George Lazenby shoulda had another shot, imo, so sexy…), but fantasies are just that: fantasies. When do we get to see the world, including fantasies, through a literal female lens, with women behind the camera, writing, producing, and distributing films? Male centric fantasies are amusing and can be fun but after the nth entry in that (Bond) or any other masculinist franchise, are we still required to pretend this shit is any good, or does anything other than provide mindless fluff? Villain. Check. Hot dangerous woman. Check. Dead hot dangerous woman. Check. Impossible, intricate toys of death. Check. Obstructionist boss/higher up. Check. Hot love interest. Check. Dead hot love interest. Check. It’s worth noting how many male fantasies inevitably kill off female lead characters (but really if we’re honest they’re actually supporting roles, amirite), but yeah, sure, you thought Barbie wasn’t fun, and the character of Ken wasn’t realistic, or believable, or very funny. Ken is not a character, dude, he’s a toy, and a prop toy in a very, very, deliberately written supporting role to the main character and her close coterie of Barbie twins, a man character who is Barbie, FFS. Her name is in the title. Her name is the title.
Funny story about this non-Barbie the movie-loving friend of mine, who is also, as it happens, gay. When Howard Dean was running for President (remember him?), this lovely man and I were in a meeting of like-minded Dems talking about canvassing voters in rural upstate New York. He said, ‘How can I, a gay man, go door to door in Delaware County for Howard Dean?’ To which I replied, ‘Well, don’t go in a dress. You’re selling the candidacy of Howard Dean; talk about him, not about your sex life, dahlink!’
It wasn’t made for you…it’s not always about men, almost always but not alllllllways…. and counting down to a possible return to parity? Knock wood.
#GoodTimes #BarbieRules #NotMadeForYouFFS #FemaleCentricFilmsFin-a-Fucking-ly