It was easy to take the animated route, much like the home video fluff of the 2000s or a substantial chunk of Netflix’s children’s section. They could have even given the Toy Story incarnation a spin-off and have Woody and Buzz doing cameos, but that would have been pushing it. But Barbie in the Nutcracker, this is not, and definitely not Pixar either. Not with Greta Gerwig at the helm. Not Greta “Frances Ha” Gerwig who captured senior high spunk in Lady Bird and sassed up Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. This is live-action Barbie we’re talking about here, and for grown-ups at that. So, unless you’re fine with the plastic protagonist disclosing her non-existent genitals, don’t bring the kids. Otherwise, good luck explaining before bedtime.

It opens with a nod to Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, of all things, with little girls taking on the hominin roles. Under Helen Mirren’s narration, not just here but throughout, the girls then start savagely using their baby dolls as blunt weapons, much like the hominins did with bones in the alluded classic. No price guessing who the Monolith is in this parody – it’s swimsuit-clad Margot Robbie, standing tall and proud in an ode to the doll’s 1959 debut. That sets us up for what’s ahead. Again, expect no G-rated fare.

Talks of a Barbie movie began in 2009, with different studios involved at different points. That was until 2018, when Warner Brothers finally prevailed. It was one year later when Robbie came on board, and they never looked back.  

Needless to say, she was born for the title role, and that goes beyond physical attributes. She brings just about every expected nuisance from an anthropomorphic doll and with no visible prosthetics at that. Here, she refers to herself as Stereotypical Barbie, or as she puts it, the Barbie you think of when told to think of a Barbie. Not that she’s the only one, mind you. In fact, she’s one of several overachieving namesakes living in Barbieland. Enter a diverse, all-star female cast portraying said variants. There’s a President (Issa Rae), a writer (Alexandra Shipp), a physicist (Emma Mackey), a lawyer (Sharon Rooney), a doctor (Hari Nef), and even a school of mermaids (all played by Dua Lipa). This operates on the brand’s premise: that women can be anyone they aspire to be and choose to be. Sadly, it was society that dumbed down its image through the years by staying transfixed on the doll’s perfect looks. That much is tackled here, among several other things.

Then, of course, there’s Ken, the male counterpart whose purpose was always kept vague. Is he the love interest, the village himbo, or is he just simply…there? Guess that ultimately depends on the child playing, but the lead Barbie herself calls him “superfluous”. That, too, is addressed, and brace yourselves for that one. Ryan Gosling plays the lead Ken here, and, obviously, he’s having the time of his life. Just like the Barbies, there are also several other Kens of different races and archetypes. There’s a tourist (Simu Liu), a basketball star (Kingsley Ben-Adir), the stereotype (Scott Evans), the artist (Ncuti Gatwa), and look for John Cena in a hilarious variant. Toss in Michael Cera as the underappreciated Ken-Pal Allan and blink-and-miss Emerald Fennell, as Midge, the pulled-from-shelves pregnant doll and, together, we have a happy matriarchal society where the females flourish, and the males simply lounge around.

It’s an eye-popping fantasy world, put together by set designer Sarah Greenwood and set decorator Katie Spencer, who took visual cues from classics such as The Wizard of Oz (1939), An American in Paris (1951), The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964), and even Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985). Nailing the wardrobe is previous Gerwig collaborator Jacqueline Durran. It’s a mesmerizing spectacle but, if you think they stay put there, think again.

Conflict arises at a club when Stereotypical Barbie asks about mortality. Obviously, that startles her friends and fellow patrons, but not as much as it startles her. More anomalies follow the next morning, when she notices shifts in both her mood and her body. This gives her the impetus to see Weird Barbie, a vandalized version of the doll played by Robbie’s Bombshell co-star Kate McKinnon. In effect, she’s Barbieland’s resident sage (and contortionist). So, off Stereotypical Barbie goes to the Real World to search for more clues, with Lead Ken inadvertently in tow.

Naturally, she gets more than she bargained for, and the culture shock gets real. She meets people outside her likeness and, worse, gets cat-called to a hilt. But the trip becomes remarkably awakening for Ken, who learns about the patriarchy at a library. As one would guess, he gets twisted ideas and soon takes them home.  

It’s amusing to watch Mattel subject themselves to their self-deprecation. Here, they portray themselves as a frigid male-dominated conglomerate, led by Will Ferrell as the unnamed CEO with Brit-Cypriot comedian Jamie Demetriou as the unnamed CFO, among many others. They’re hilarious, but the implications terrify: men dictate women’s aspirations with the latter having no say. Suddenly, putting a female doll in a box unveils a scarier allegory, especially when men do it.

The closest that firm has to a strong female is Gloria (America Ferrera), a receptionist who whiles away office hours sketching. But her true struggle is in connecting with her jaded daughter Sasha (Ariana Greenblatt), who – gasp – despises Barbies. Their troubled dynamic aside, they unknowingly hold the key to Stereotypical Barbie’s enlightenment. So, what follows is a race to both solve Stereotypical Barbie’s existential dilemma and save Barbieland from another awakened terror. Never before had Matchbox 20’s Push felt so well-applied, but in comes Gloria with the film’s most potent monologue.

Given the overall kid-friendly façade, the messages can startle. It’s like being clownsplained by a jack-in-the-box in parts, and you get why purists are triggered. But much as the contrasts can get polarizing, the satire would have crumbled under less gifted writers. Thankfully, Gerwig and husband Noah Baumbach sharply keep the truth bombs coming with pastel-colored panache.

The strongest gut-punch comes when Barbie reconnects with her roots. It’s a cathartic sequence that ties up all loose ends, set to Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?”, the best cut in the all-star soundtrack. By then, we’re reminded who the real protagonist of the story is, in principle. It hits closer to home than you think, really. The doll is merely the conduit.  

Amidst the seemingly random preachiness, the film shines brightest when it bares its soul. It’s proof that sincerity often stems from even the loudest and most outrageous sources (or people). You just have to listen through the noise.