This is the second time I watched Barbie and I’m still trying to unpack why I feel such antipathy when it’s generally charming.

I hadn’t really wanted to watch it again, but my mommy hadn’t seen it yet, I had her captive at my house, and I wanted to be able to Discuss. This woman gave me most of my taste in media. I like watching things with her.

Since it’s been a minute since I wrote the first review (all of a month ago), I thought I might like Barbie better. Sometimes I have to get over the shock/disappointment/dismay/whatever-the-fuck-is-happening-inside-my-chaos-brain of seeing a movie for the first time, and realizing the values are so distant from mine. And then after that, it’s fine. I just anticipate the good parts and ignore the bad parts.

Although I found myself more capable of enjoying Ken now that I’m resigned to the movie being so Ken-focused, I found the last act to be as much a needle in the balloon of my enthusiasm as the first time. It’s just so bleak.

My original review doesn’t really change.

I wonder if I would like Barbie out of the context of its time, when I didn’t spend a year suffering under the oppressive Barbeinheimer marketing (I’m Very Online so I just saw tons of it), but I am inclined to think I would not. As I said before, there is a deep cynicism to Barbie that always makes me imagine Greta Gerwig frowning while she sips champagne in a fancy California rich-people winery or something, telling herself, “Ugh being a woman is so hard.”

Since I have fewer big-picture thoughts analyzing Barbie on second watch, I roll my eyes more at the amount of Manliness in this movie advertised to be about Womanity. Ken’s arc is more dynamic than Barbie’s, he has a better musical number, everyone praises Ryan Gosling while mentioning Margot Robbie mostly in passing. Sometimes it feels more like a Noah Baumbach movie that let Greta Gerwig vent her womanly feelings.

The generalizations about still gender don’t speak to me, beyond the fact I recognize some people recognize some qualities as belonging to some genders. Thinking about the whole guy playing guitar being sad when a girl deprives him of attention thing — it’s like the movie is complaining about a stereotype I’ve only ever seen as a stereotype? It feels like we’re meant to be like “lol yeah THAT GUY, guys do that ALL THE TIME lollll” and I’m just like, “…do they?”

Feminist struggles in this movie are mostly men not taking women seriously, which is toothless.

The executive dick-sucking on screen is exhausting. The obvious insecurity of IRL Mattel executives needing to be soothed is exhausting. Even a few jabs have to be softened and ultimately allowed to fizzle out.

It’s that latter point that makes me feel the real problem with Barbie is actually its budget, like most contemporary blockbusters. These movies are simply too expensive. That means they *must* be *so* many things to *so* many people, mostly executives, who get elbow-deep in something that is actually just an unreasonably huge investment into a project that would have been a satisfying mid-budget kids’ movie, smearing corporate neediness all over some imperfect artists who are telling an incredibly personal message that is not as generalized as the movie constantly states. By centering Barbie as some icon of gender, and putting so much money into it, vastly overstating the importance and universality of the messages therein was inevitable; execution is incapable of matching expectations.

Barbie shouts, “Feminism!” and the marketing is forced to say that’s revolutionary because it’s revolutionary to the c-suite dudes who allowed it. But outside that tiny slice of world, feminism is not nearly so narrow, and “acknowledging the cognitive dissonance” doesn’t *actually* take away the patriarchy’s power on the people it marginalizes, unless you have the privileges of Gerwig and Baumbach and Robbie and Gosling and–

So that’s where my glass onion feeling comes from: there are a lot of things to consider about Barbie, which has more elements and bigger statements than it really has the capacity for carrying. When you pick them all apart you find it’s really just a toy movie with a story only as universal as being wealthy white Americans who suffer catering to the c-suite to afford caviar.

As always: Massive kudos to the art team. This thing is visual candy. I wish I didn’t think so much, honestly, because I love the fashion, I love the colors, I love the idea of commuting between universes via a cute catalog of Barbie scenes. I want to walk around my neighborhood saying, “Hi Barbie!” There is a lot to like, but I would like it SO much more if Barbie had acknowledged the fact it mostly serves to empower the already rich and powerful Barbies and Kens of the real world. Or like. Not done that.

Also my kids found it wildly boring. So whatever it is, it’s not necessarily a kids’ movie. We remain a Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse family. (And my mother did not like Ken.)

(image credit: Warner Bros. Pictures)

If you know me at all, you know that giving Princess Mononoke four stars is *weird*. I will five-star movies much worse than this one. And the original movie in Japanese, Mononoke Hime (1997), is absolutely a five star movie! This is a magnificent, compassionate, thoughtful story asking questions about the “versus” part of “man versus nature,” and the mythic scale of this folk fantasy is *so* up my alley.

But tonight I watched Princess Mononoke (1999), the version released in the USA with English-speaking voice actors like Gillian Anderson, Claire Daines, and Minnie Driver.

I think all the English dubs of Studio Ghibli movies I’ve seen have significantly altered the way information is conveyed. I get the sense that more mature animation like Princess Mononoke was confusing to Western markets, who only had a blueprint for mass-marketing kids’ animation, and thus feel compelled to simplify the concepts. It feels painful every time it happens. It’s not quite as bad in Princess Mononoke as Spirited Away, but it does mean the English dubs are distinct unto themselves.

The quality of the dub itself is dodgy. The performers involved are good in other contexts, but the voice work here feels paced badly. I suspect a combination of voice director choices and translation choices are to thank. It often feels like they’re trying to rush a lot of words into a few seconds of animation. Plus, inappropriate inflection abounds, leaving Claire Daines rush-shouting half her lines.

It’s a shame that the American-facing presentation is so unfortunate. Studio Ghibli movies have always felt a bit worse for their handling in the translation.

I have zero complaints or criticisms about the source material. As I grow older, I learn to admire the craftsmanship of Princess Mononoke in all-new ways. It’s visually stunning beyond the scope of one little review to describe. The music is so grand and emotional.

It’s fascinating that I have become radical in my politics in a way that Princess Mononoke challenges. The movie itself is radically ecological, which I would say describes me too. But ultimately, Princess Mononoke isn’t about ecological politics. It’s about how choosing hatred will kill everyone and everything, and the only way to do that is to stop choosing hatred.

By taking the focus away from what is right or wrong behavior from the humans — the hero’s goal is always simply saving lives, choosing life over death — the story can speak to anyone by asking, “Are you driven by hatred?

Ashitaka consistently chooses compassion for individuals I don’t think I’d try to save. It makes me look into my own heart and see places where the thrashing poison of hatred has plenty of room to grow.

The compassionate detail Princess Mononoke provides to the story’s factions has always jumped out at me.

Jigo is probably the worst figure in the movie. He is driven exclusively by greed, and validated by the assumption everyone is as greedy as he is, but he also regards Ashitaka as a friend. He’s out to kill nature for the Emperor’s pleasure, and in return, Jigo will get “everything.” Even when the world is falling down around them, Jigo scrabbles for his greedy goals…and then the movie leaves him shrugging it off when he fails. He’s sort of charming. Obviously he’s not good, at all, but the takeaway is one of someone self-centered but affable.

Lady Eboshi is my favorite of the antagonists. She’s afraid of nothing. You can tell the worst has already happened to her, so she welcomes the vengeance of nature’s curse. What powerful compassion it takes to gather a community of sex workers and lepers and gainfully employ them! Eboshi is the ultimate girl boss, stopping at nothing to accrue power in a system that has crushed them all. But she’s trying to take others with her. She’s trying to give her people a fair shot. You could say Eboshi stands to show the way that shit flows ever-downward in an empire: In order to claim any power in the empire as a woman, leper, sex worker, she has to pass the shit further down the empire’s power chain, which means nature.

I want to call Moro, the mother of the wolves, one of the good guys, but that wouldn’t be fair to the neutrality of Ashitaka’s perspective as narrator. All the nature gods are excellent expressions of the animistic understanding of nature. Nature is not good or bad, but it is full of instincts that can lead to your death. Moro wants the humans dead. Yet she has taken her “ugly, beautiful” human daughter, Mononoke, and treasures her the way she treasures her full-wolf sons. Moro is both a violent protector of the forest and a benevolent mother.

Alongside the Moro clan, we also get to know the boars, led by old Lord Okkoto, and the vicious primate spirits of the forest. And the Spirit of the Forest himself: a deer-like creature who turns into a ghostly giant at night. He doesn’t represent life and death. He is life and death.

Princess Mononoke has a humbling view on human hierarchy. For all that Lady Eboshi and Jigo are ensuring that shit continues flowing downward in their system — to the point of successfully killing the forest spirits — life and death are greater than all of that still.

Hence choosing hatred is choosing death, but the story doesn’t frame that as a failing so much as a maladaptive response to a terrible system that does things like letting samurai murder innocents and extinguishing indigenous tribes.

In a historical context, it makes sense that Princess Mononoke would so neutrally portray the humans’ cruelty against nature, human cruelty against humans, and of greater elemental forces against humans. Like all empires, Japanese empires have been responsible for a lot of harm in their country and elsewhere. Here, Studio Ghibli wants us to remember that these were just humans committing atrocities. People who loved and hurt and were trying to better themselves and had passions and could be your neighbors.

The only way to stop that kind of harm is to stop choosing hate, period, and give it nowhere to grow. It’s beautiful messaging in a beautiful movie that doesn’t flinch back from the tragedy of empire. And if you haven’t seen it before, I recommend watching the version with Japanese subtitles, not the English dub.

(image credit: GKIDS)

Mamma Mia! came out at the same time as The Dark Knight. I’ve seen multiple comparisons to Barbenheimer (15 years apart), and I think it’s apt. The parallel sticks out to me because it’s definitely the reason I haven’t seen Mamma Mia! until now. At that point, I was absolutely not interested in some girly disco musical, especially standing in opposition to a Nolan comic book movie.

It’s probably for the best that I grew up a bit. I don’t think I had the sincere heart or feminine slant to love Mamma Mia! yet, and I probably would have just hated it for all the terrible singing. Corny also feels like a descriptor I may have used.

Much time later, I have grown an appreciation for movies where it looks like the cast and crew just wanted a nice vacation. You know? Everyone in Mamma Mia! looks to be having an amazing time. They’re tanned, happy, drunk, and everyone has so much chemistry, you fully believe the relationships are lifelong.

It’s cute how little is going on with the guys, honestly. These three actors were summoned together to be Hot Dad Guys and enjoy the drunk tan vacation. Half the time, they barely interact meaningfully with one another; they’re just hunky props to stand in as dad/husband for the tropes deployed.

Meryl Streep sings badly with gusto, dances with abandon, and wears the best makeup. Christine Baranksi is in this too because you just can’t do musicals without Christine Baranski? She’s the only one who actually sings well. I’m told the low-skill singing is because you’re supposed to sing over them the whole time anyway, but I don’t actually know ABBA well enough for that. I have no choice but to hear Meryl Streep shout-sing her heart out and I sincerely admire her commitment. It wouldn’t work if she didn’t put her whole Streepussy into it.

I just can’t overstate how much everyone seemed to have fun. I’ve grown into someone whose favorite feeling is compersion, and I love vicariously experiencing what may have been one of the better film-vacations of these folks’s lives. The story is really cute. The scenery is so lovely. Colin Firth is full homo. I really liked this.

(image source: Universal Pictures)

This is a great example of The Metropolis Effect. I just coined that–do you like it? It’s meant to describe the experience I had watching Fritz Lang’s Metropolis for the first time, long after it was initially released. I had seen so many movies (TV shows/books/games/music videos) cribbing heavily off Metropolis that the originating movie almost felt modern–even derivative. Coming across it late, I’m already so familiar with the ripples from the rock hitting the pond, seeing the splash that came first is *weird*.

Such is is with The Blair Witch Project. I was eleven years old when this came out, and this wasn’t my kind of movie. It seemed way too scary. Hence I’ve spent twenty-five years experiencing the ripples from Blair Witch without knowing the reference.

Again, I find myself shocked at how modern The Blair Witch Project feels! The retro look is *so* cool right now, I’d absolutely believe everything was some kind of grainy VHS filter. Found footage dominates internet horror. My kids are into horror on YouTube, and I’m telling you, I think I’ve seen about two hundred brilliant twists on everything Blair Witch did so neatly.

The permeability of the membrane between reality and folk myth was punctured by The Blair Witch Project and culture has been streaming through that hole ever since. Or maybe we should go all the way back to Orson Welles narrating The War of the Worlds over the radio and scaring a nation into thinking aliens were invading–which is *really* impressive genetic lineage for a shaky movie that mostly has three cast members we don’t often see very well.

I remember how everyone Back In The Day (spits out dentures) was so confused by this, because it felt real. This wasn’t what movies looked like! But now, *everything* looks like The Blair Witch. There are just as many brilliant filmmakers running around with their friends, doing creepy shit with their cell phone videos that looks so similar.

I just want to keep referencing later projects that seem to borrow from Blair Witch’s magic. For instance, I kept thinking about how this was slower-paced and naturalistic very much like the original Paranormal Activity, too…but Blair Witch was way less boring. Hearing their missing friend calling from the woods had me making Annihilation bear jokes. The Rolling Giant did well capturing a similar ambiance with camera work barely glimpsing the pursuer. Cloverfield tried to scale up the stakes of found footage to kaiju-size. On and on and on.

I don’t know how to comment on this besides thinking it was just brilliant and prescient. I get why it hit so hard. The ending lands flawlessly. It’s a lot of fun, and I’m genuinely glad I waited to see it because I don’t think I could have appreciated it when I was younger. I bet this was a blast to see in the theaters with a crowd, though.

(image credit: Summit Pictures)

Dredd is an early-10s science fiction action movie where a post-nuclear war America has consolidated into a few metropolises, and most people live in giant towers, like whole cities in a skyscraper. Quality of life is real, real bad. A brutal policing force of Judges intervene with crime. They have the authority to judge and kill perpetrators on sight. Massive public car chases and shootouts are common. In this particular movie, Judge Dredd takes a trainee to answer a call, and things escalate.

This is based upon source material also adapted in an 80s movie with Sylvester Stallone, so if it sounds familiar, it should. 2000 AD is a comics classic.

Surely I could come up with involved, over-thinky commentary about how this satire of America’s punitive police-forward culture is just as much participating in the mythology of copaganda as it is criticizing it. Aside from the very fact they differentiate between good cops and bad cops, fundamentally misunderstanding ACAB, any movie that makes bad stuff look cool allows people to take the wrong message. See: terrible IRL cops idolizing The Punisher.

Dredd leaves much room for genuine idolization of this brutal police state. The creators’ intentions are coming from the right place; the observations are keenly made. It’s really more symptomatic of the policing culture’s greater issues that you can’t make a brutal, awful cop that cops won’t wanna mimic. I don’t want this kind of policing satire anymore, no matter how well it’s done. You know?

All that said, Dredd 3D is superlative on every other axis I care about. Imagine someone made a perfect adaptation of the *spirit* of 1990s Boomer Shooters (Doom, Hexen, Quake, et al) wearing the clothes of 2000 AD. That sort of dry action hero paired against absurd numbers of enemies, with a multi-functional gun that can shoot whatever you need (providing you conserved ammunition for the boss battle), and the floor-by-floor level design of Dredd feels like a much better adaptation of Duke Nukem 3D than we will ever see.

Alex Garland is behind the screenplay for Dredd 3D. Considering Garland’s fascinating relationship with feminine gender in Men and the highly metaphoric Annihilation, it makes sense to see him here: Ma-Ma and Anderson are two female characters written and played pitch-perfectly. Is it weird to say the movie Dredd simply doesn’t hate women? There is frank acknowledgment of female objectification in the story, but even visions of sexual violence against women are kept vague, and Ma-Ma declines to commit excessive violence against Anderson. It’s a show of ultimate respect that Ma-Ma simply wants Anderson dead. Not tortured, raped, or skinned–just a whole lotta bullets in the chest and the head. Now that’s feminism I can get behind.

Whenever I think of movies with fabulous editing, Dredd 3D is at the top. The score is kind of a minimal electronic drum-and-bass thing for the most part, but it’s unrelenting, and the dominance of the rhythm draws you from one cut to another with the breathless excitement of a music video. The pacing is outstanding.

Dredd’s also a shockingly beautiful movie, with shots that are like anti-aesthetic fine art. This is a movie celebrating the bright spatter of blood, the shock of angry scars on pallid flesh, and grunge dragged down stucco walls. SFX took great pride in showing every frame of bullets blasting through bodies. It will always hold the title of Best Movie Shown in 3D in Cinemas Ever, for me, because the sparkling slo-mo scenes are the single greatest usage of stereoscoping filming I’ve seen, and it’s almost as beautiful on my flat television.

None of it would be as sweet if Dredd didn’t have the most flawless action movie punchline known to mankind. With a crazy escalating level of violence endangering a city block’s worth of people (and then some), things feel huge. The stakes are big. Ma-Ma turns out to be a major source of criminality for all of Mega City One, and a lot of people die, and cops turn even more corrupt, and a drug lab gets destroyed. Yet the punchline is that this is just another day. Shrug. When he finally delivers “justice” upon the big bad, Dredd’s ready to go home to take a shower and sleep for the next one.

Fabulous.

(image credit: Lionsgate)

This is one of the very few movies that didn’t involve dragons, vampires, aliens, or alien vampires that I ever bothered watching as a kid.

Yet again I find myself in the surreal position of growing beyond the young heroines to which I once related. I used to see myself as Wednesday in The Addams Family; I became Morticia sometime in my twenties when my adorable children sprouted sarcasm. Now in my thirties, with an artistic principled teenager and a perspicacious blonde spitfire, I find myself relating to older moms yet, like Susan Sarandon as Mrs. March. You can tell she used to be like her daughters. She’s still got that youthful, hopeful edge that keeps her fighting for her daughters’ rights to be individuals, free of systemic abuse and expectations that don’t suit them, and the fact she can’t get through a conversation without bringing up feminism is way too relatable.

How beautiful to grow up with the families in my movies. How lovely it is to connect to womanity throughout the decades. This is a book from 1868 filtered through 1990 sensibilities, now viewed from the mid-2020s, and I find myself reflecting on the progress (or lack thereof) from thirty years ago as much as a hundred sixty years ago. Such a straight line can be drawn from, say, the March daughters’ coming of age to my mom’s coming of age, and my own, and those of my children.

A hundred sixty years doesn’t feel so long ago, and that’s comforting. A hundred sixty years from now maybe isn’t that far away either. I wonder if there will be women butting up against the expectations of the Heterosexual Treadmill like Jo March, who’d much rather write gothic stories than get married and have babies*. I can say with certainty that there will be girls developing friendships with boys they think *like* them, only to discover the boys actually *want* them, just like 1868, just like my own young life at the turn of the 21st century.

Marriage is a complicated prospect meaning a great many potentials that had higher stakes for women. They still do. The implicit burden of being the one with less economic power has changed somewhat, but perhaps the difficulty of men to genuinely recognize that burden hasn’t changed at all. While Jo in the story was storming around denying a need for marriage, Louisa May Alcott held similar sentiments. She didn’t initially choose to marry off the girls. The need was passed down from a publisher who wanted happily ever afters for a hungry audience.

Giving Jo an ending with Mr. Bear feels weird, just like the developments with Laurie don’t feel *good* exactly. I don’t think I’m projecting my unease on the story. It feels a lot like Alcott expected even the best man to struggle to respect her passions, like Mr. Bear. And Teddy’s attraction to the March family more than Amy has a whiff of the role women are expected to play for men as wife, mommy, therapist, and his entire social life.

But the bittersweet authenticity of these disappointments, compromises, and sacrifices is maybe what makes Little Women so good, too. If you told your childhood self how your adulthood turned out, don’t you think you’d feel a little bittersweet in the comparison? A lot of people don’t end up living out wild childhood dreams – perhaps most people don’t – but life may be beautiful if you hold love and family close anyway.

On a sentimental level, Christian Bale is such a charming Teddy because he’s also the voice for Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle. If you love Howl and Sophie in the American version, it’s kinda not hard to root for him a *little* bit? Even when he’s being a weird womanizing punk? I expected him to explode into miserable goo when he started tantruming over Jo.

The score for this particular version of Little Women is enough to absolutely break my heart even when I’m not facedown in bed over Beth for the thousandth time in my innocent life. Seeing the absolutely *amazing* cast so young, when we’ve now become accustomed to their grown faces, has a way of making a gal reflect on exactly how much her own face has grown. The years pass in the movie and the characters age but the actresses don’t (with the exception of a casting-swap for Amy mid-movie). This is the sentimental dream of childhood’s years coming to an end. It aches in such a lovely way.(image credit: Columbia Pictures)

Though Eternals is very much the same brand as Marvel’s other offerings, it feels quiet and intimate. The visual style is soft: with flattering, moody lighting, the surgically enhanced lead actors look truly like timeless aliens rather than video game characters (as Marvel’s creations sometimes do by the end of post-production). We linger in close conversations held between ancient beings. The narrative slips away from modernity to historical periods with a drifting camera. The Eternals themselves are comfortable in every time period, and so are we, lovingly experiencing humanity beside them.

Shakespeare loved to write about direct opposites, and Chloé Zhao has made full use of this technique to hammer home the humanity intrinsic to gods on Earth. A grand-scale comic book story about planet-sized aliens is made relatable by treating the Eternals as normal-ish people who want to help the world, who are then changed in dramatic ways when their mission is revealed to be less-than-helpful.

Unfortunately, the grand-scale story also comes with a grand-scale cast. Each character was designed with interesting power sets played marvelously by actors who brought interesting things to the role, and I would have liked to see more from all of them. But how much time can you spend with all your favorites when you have about a dozen favorites and 2.5 hours to visit with them?

I most often rankled against Eternals when it reminded me that it’s part of one of the biggest entertainment franchises, like ham-handed text on screen explaining lore that is then repeated by the characters. Laboring over explanations of why they didn’t intervene with other MCU events irritated me. This movie desperately wanted to be its own, but it is still part of the brand, packaged in plastic and dispensed with a Happy Meal. Zhao did a wonderful job making a wonderful movie within those constraints.

Whether Eternals works in the greater scope of the MCU ultimately depends on how future creators will handle them. The piecemeal storytelling means we may see these characters brought in elsewhere, with all but their simplest defining characteristics stripped so that they can be functional cogs in an oversize, spectacular machine (like, say, Peter Quill in Endgame). This is where I find my dissatisfaction in the MCU, and it will seem especially criminal to reappropriate the Eternals in such a fashion when the complexity and charm of the characters in Zhao’s vision are what make them worth watching.

(Image credit: Disney. This review was originally posted on Letterboxd on Jan 14 2022.)