"Barbie," chief and co-essayist Greta Gerwig's late spring sprinkle

 

"Barbie," chief and co-essayist Greta Gerwig's late spring sprinkle

, is a stunning accomplishment, both in fact and in tone. A visual dining experience prevails as both a merry departure and a rallying call. So packed with perfect meticulousness is "Barbie" that you could never get everything in a solitary sitting; you'd need to dedicate a whole review just to the embellishments, for instance. The ensemble configuration (drove by double cross Oscar victor Jacqueline Durran) and creation configuration (drove by six-time Oscar chosen one Sarah Greenwood) are continually shrewd and beautiful, befitting the steadily developing symbol, and cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto (a three-time Oscar candidate) gives everything a polished glimmer. The fact that Gerwig and Co makes it not just. have reproduced a lot of Barbies from all through her long term history, furnished them with an assortment of dress and hairdos, and set them in immaculate dream houses. It's that they've rejuvenated these figures with irresistible enthusiasm and a knowing wink.

“Barbie” can be hysterically funny, with giant laugh-out-loud moments generously scattered throughout. They come from the insularity of an idyllic, pink-hued realm and the physical comedy of fish-out-of-water moments and choice pop culture references as the outside world increasingly encroaches. But because the marketing campaign has been so clever and so ubiquitous, you may discover that you’ve already seen a fair amount of the movie’s inspired moments, such as the “2001: A Space Odyssey” homage and Ken’s self-pitying ‘80s power ballad. Such is the anticipation industrial complex.

Thus you likely definitely know the fundamental plot: Barbie (Margot Robbie), the most famous of all the Barbies in Barbieland, starts encountering an existential emergency. She should go to the human world to grasp herself and find her actual reason. Her somewhat sweetheart, Ken (Ryan Gosling), tags along on the grounds that his own reality relies upon Barbie recognizing him. Both find cruel bits of insight — and make new companions - along the way to edification. This draining of obvious reality into a fanatically designed dream brings to mind the disclosures of "The Truman Show" and "The LEGO Film," yet through a wry crystal that is explicitly Gerwig's

This is a movie that acknowledges Barbie’s unrealistic physical proportions—and the kinds of very real body issues they can cause in young girls—while also celebrating her role as a feminist icon. After all, there was an astronaut Barbie doll (1965) before there was an actual woman in NASA’s astronaut corps (1978), an achievement “Barbie” commemorates by showing two suited-up women high-fiving each other among the stars, with Robbie’s Earth-bound Barbie saluting them with a sunny, “Yay, space!” This is also a movie in which Mattel (the doll’s manufacturer) and Warner Bros. (the film’s distributor) at least create the appearance that they’re in on the surprisingly pointed jokes at their expense. Mattel headquarters features a spacious, top-floor conference room populated solely by men with a heart-shaped, “Dr. Strangelove”-inspired lamp hovering over the table, yet Will Ferrell’s CEO insists his company’s “gender-neutral bathrooms up the wazoo” are evidence of diversity. It's a neat trick.

As the film's star, Margot Robbie tracks down the perfect harmony among parody and genuineness. She's the ideal projecting decision; it's difficult to envision any other person in the job. The light haired, blue-peered toward shocker totally looks like it, obviously, yet she additionally emanates the sort of unflagging, overstated good faith expected for this increased, sugarcoated world. Afterward, as Barbie's comprehension extends, Robbie unbelievably handles the more muddled discourse by Gerwig and her co-essayist and successive partner, movie producer Noah Baumbach. From a blinding grin to a solitary tear and each in the middle between, Robbie tracks down the best energy and tone all through. Her presentation is a delight to observe.

But, Ryan Gosling is a predictable scene-stealer as he delights in Ken's himbo slightness. He goes from Barbie's penniless playmate to a strutting, macho good for nothing as he hurls himself head-first into how he figures a genuine man ought to act. (Watchers acquainted with Los Angeles geology will especially get a remove from the spots that give his motivation.) Gosling sells his square-jawed character's genuineness and will take advantage of his "All New Mickey Mouse Club" melodic venue roots all the while. He's an all out hoot.

Within the film’s enormous ensemble—where the women are all Barbies and the men are all Kens, with a couple of exceptions—there are several standouts. They include a gonzo Kate McKinnon as the so-called “Weird Barbie” who places Robbie’s character on her path; Issa Rae as the no-nonsense President Barbie; Alexandra Shipp as a kind and capable Doctor Barbie; Simu Liu as the trash-talking Ken who torments Gosling’s Ken; and America Ferrera in a crucial role as a Mattel employee. And we can’t forget Michael Cera as the one Allan, bumbling awkwardly in a sea of hunky Kens—although everyone else forgets Allan.

But while “Barbie” is wildly ambitious in an exciting way, it’s also frustratingly uneven at times. After coming on strong with wave after wave of zippy hilarity, the film drags in the middle as it presents its more serious themes. It’s impossible not to admire how Gerwig is taking a big swing with heady notions during the mindless blockbuster season, but she offers so many that the movie sometimes stops in its propulsive tracks to explain itself to us—and then explain those points again and again. The breezy, satirical edge she established off the top was actually a more effective method of conveying her ideas about the perils of toxic masculinity and entitlement and the power of female confidence and collaboration.

One character delivers a lengthy, third-act speech about the conundrum of being a woman and the contradictory standards to which society holds us. The middle-aged mom in me was nodding throughout in agreement, feeling seen and understood, as if this person knew me and was speaking directly to me. But the longtime film critic in me found this moment a preachy momentum killer—too heavy-handed, too on-the-nose, despite its many insights.  

Still, if such a crowd-pleasing extravaganza can also offer some fodder for thoughtful conversations afterward, it’s accomplished several goals simultaneously. It’s like sneaking spinach into your kid’s brownies—or, in this case, blondies.