Article
Creed
Feminism
5 min read

The good, the bad and the Barbie

At the Barbie movie, Lauren Windle fraternises with her childhood enemy, and leaves pondering change and imperfection.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

Barbie stands between Ken and a rival with her hands raised.
Peacekeeper Barbie.
Warner Bros.

Barbie and I always had an unspoken understanding that our relationship would be mutually destructive. She made me feel inadequate; I was too short without a synched-in waist and pneumatic boobs. And I chewed her off her toes. One all. 

I have spent the better part of two decades not thinking about my adversary, until once again she reared her (not at all) ugly head. I always celebrate on July 21. It is, after all, my birthday. But this year, the date was eagerly anticipated by millions and not because they share my love of Colin the Caterpillar cake. Last Friday was ‘Barbie Day' and it was all anyone could talk about. 2 – 1 to Barbie. 

If you missed the news that there’s a Barbie movie now in the cinemas, clamber out from underneath that rock and let me tell you about it. The film, starring Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling, caused quite a stir with, what I can only assume is, the biggest marketing budget since Nike release Air Jordans. Both Warner Bros and Barbie’s parent company Mattel have thrown money at making sure we all know about their candy-coated flick. The campaign has been so effective that production sparked a global shortage of fluorescent pink paint. 

The box office is now raking in cash as people flock to see the fuchsia film. When I attended a morning viewing this weekend, I was one of the few people who hadn’t come dressed head to toe in pink. Not a chance Barbie. 

On taking my end-of-row seat (to facilitate a quick getaway) I settled in for one hour and 54 minutes of fraternising with the enemy. I’ll level with you, Barbie had made some effort to change. The vibrant colours (mainly in a rosy hue) were still in place, along with the glossy hair and impossibly smooth legs. But there was a new self-awareness and self-deprecation that hadn’t featured in our childhood tea parties.  

Finally, my arch nemesis is on the right side of history, right? I’m not sure that’s the case. 

I had expected a vapid tale with fun flourishes. The story certainly delivered on both of those but with a lot more I hadn’t anticipated. From where I was sitting (popcorn in hand, legs stretched out into the aisle), it was a satirical story of feminism, patriarchy and the joy and anguish of fully embracing life on life’s terms. If you saw that coming, you probably have the gift of the prophetic, because it was certainly not on my radar.  

If you don’t think too much about the plot, the film is easy to enjoy. Helen Mirren offers a witty commentary which is like someone handing you a cup of tea with two sugars when you usually just take milk. It was a welcome surprise that you wouldn’t have asked for but were delighted to discover. It was a visual feast for the eyes with everything – especially the inhabitants of Barbieland – looking perfectly polished. There are also a number of very funny jokes – albeit with adult undertones.  

All good so far, but now let’s suppose that you, like me, will think about the plot. When the word is defined correctly, I am delighted to identify as a feminist. That does not mean that I support every feminism-associated declaration of the last 100 years, but it does mean that I passionately champion women and the correcting of previous (and some current) oppressions. This would make me a prime candidate for loving the Barbie movie. Finally, my arch nemesis is on the right side of history, right? I’m not sure that’s the case. Sometimes, in an attempt to show willing, we can allow the pendulum to swing a little too far in the wrong direction. 

Mattel’s campaign to rebrand Barbie from a ditsy blonde to an empowered achiever has been well documented. People didn’t want the lack of ambition that came with “shopping mall Barbie” or “beach Barbie” and they certainly didn’t want to have to live up to her unrealistic beauty standards. Apparently if a Barbie doll was to scale, she’d be 5ft 9 with size three feet, and only enough space in her waist for half a liver. 

Rather than continuing along these lines, portraying the company as inspiring for girls and women, they take the mick out of it. They highlight that Barbie has been a part of the problem. But in making their point, they outrageously infantilise men. Of course, this is satire, and comedy allows space for exaggeration, but it still didn’t quite sit right for me. Not one man offered a positive portrayal of masculinity (although Michael Cera’s Allan is a joy to watch). On the whole, men were either oblivious, obsessed with their own success, or childish and sometimes sit in board meetings wishing they could just tickle each other. 

The very brief summary – without revealing too much of the plot – is that Barbie is very happy in Barbieland, a perfect paradise where women do the lion share of the work and take all the leadership roles. But something starts to change, and the real world begins to seep in. After “causing a rupture” between the real world and Barbieland, “the patriarchy” is introduced into this female-led eutopia and the Barbies must banish it in order to restore the sorority-dominated lifestyle they previously enjoyed. Not a problem – when Ken found out patriarchy wasn’t about horses he lost interest anyway.  

In ten years, I think many of the critics who have lauded this film as a classic will cringe at their enthusiasm. 

In a world where even Caitlin Moran is writing a book posing the question “What About Men?” I fear this film will age badly. The vast majority of people, including women, don’t want to propel women by doing men down. In ten years, I think many of the critics who have lauded this film as a classic will cringe at their enthusiasm. 

Finally, let’s frame this with the ways the Bible has influenced the film. Oh yes, the biblical message hasn’t just underpinned Harry Potter and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, it’s apparent in the Barbie movie too. If we replace Barbieland with Eden we can see a stark comparison between the film and the creation story. In this utopia, Barbie is given authority over the land. She is given a helper in Ken. But their paradise is threatened by human fragility and quest for more knowledge. After it comes crashing down the inhabitants just want to get back to their previous state. 

The film demonstrates the desperation to 'return to Eden', in the face of an imperfect and broken world. But it also highlights the beauty that can be found in allowing yourself to experience life on life’s terms; to cry, feel pain and embrace the ache associated with change. For that, I respect its efforts. Although I think Disney’s Inside Out manages to achieve the same without belittling men. 

 

Column
Belief
Creed
Education
4 min read

Theology isn’t just for believers – and that’s the problem

As spiritual curiosity among the young rises, let’s change how they explore it

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

Quizzical-looking students look across a tutorial to others.
Nick Jones/Midjourney.ai.

The Cambridge don told us calmly but firmly in answer to a question, probably mine, that: “You don’t need to have a commitment to study theology here, but it helps.” It was 1972 and I looked around me. I was surrounded by young blokes, dare I say it, of a certain type – tall, pale-though-uninteresting, spotty and a bit chinless. Very much like me in fact in those respects but unlike me, I thought, in one key respect: Blimey, they’re all going to be vicars! 

I ran a mile – well, about 100 – to study something more fun at a redbrick, something that was also being studied by young women, which was important for me at that moment. 

Little did I know that I’d take a theology degree some 30 years later, when I trained for priesthood. And, as it happens, very much alongside women, though this column really isn’t about that. 

What it is about is the lingering academic assumption that theology is for the committed, the faithful; that it’s vocational and for people who are called to make a career of it. I wanted to study it as an adolescent only because I was academically interested (yes, how we laugh now). 

I’m with C.S. Lewis when he says faith is either a fraudulent trick or an absolute truth but can’t be anything in between (“He has not left that open to us”). Either way, I thought, that’s a great story, a curiosity for stories that led me to journalism, since the latter choice – absolute truth – seemed to be the matriculation requirement for theology at university. And the idea that theology is for committed Christians still prevails.  

It’s been on the news agenda again lately that religious studies at A-level and theology in further education have been collapsing as course choices, even as Gen Z (18-28) has shown an increasing propensity for a return to faith and church-going – the “quiet revival”. 

That apparent paradox may be explained in a number of ways. The current college generation may not equate religious interest with academic study (as I didn’t, in a way). It may be that young men, in particular, are drawn to church by a resurgent conservative Christian nationalism. Or it may simply be that a spiritual consciousness is seen as a self-improvement technique that gets dropped by their thirties. 

But there’s another possibility. Maybe we’re just not teaching theology very well. Maybe, perish the thought, we’re making it boring. Perhaps it’s like wanting to make music as a child and being sat down in front of a blackboard to be taught theory, bars and crotchets and whatnot. 

Maybe the young are interested in the subject but not in the Church Fathers, scriptural hermeneutics and ancient Greek. They may be intensely interested in whence our western ethics, morality and culture derive, but then they have history and philosophy for that. Theology is dying on its feet even as the young are wishing to make it live again. 

I have a proposed solution and it’s this: Contextual Theology. This is a school that examines the meaning of religious faith in its contemporary cultural and social contexts. It values human experience – otherwise revelation – as a valid theological source and recognises that scripture emerges from its own cultural circumstances and must be viewed with reference to our own.  

What Contextual Theology emphatically isn’t is an attempt to make theology “fit” post-modern mores and fads. The fount of divinity is unchangeable – impassable, as theologians say – but we’re invited to interpret it through the prism of the world in which we live. It’s not so much about how theology works in the world as how theology makes the world work.  

Contextual Theology is as demanding as it is illuminating. It’s the degree I took, as it happens, when I trained for priesthood in the early Noughties and it never did me any harm (Discuss). 

This isn’t a replacement theory for classical theology. We need to understand it in its ancient context to re-interpret it in our technocratic political climate. The curiosity of our young generation seems to suggest that’s an appealing prospect. 

Yet search for a Contextual Theology degree course and you search in vain. They’re only available on courses for ministerial training (like mine), validated by a university rather than taught by it. That means you can only really study Contextual Theology if you’re training for ministry. Which takes me back to that summer of 1972. 

As Graham Tomlin, of this parish, asserts, we need theologians as well as ministers if the quiet revival among the young is to be properly supported. But we need theologians of all sorts, classical and contextual. 

I like to think of the theologian who, struck by lightning, arrives at the Pearly Gates. “But I taught that God sends famine and floods on all those who sin,” complains the theologian. “Ah,” replies St Peter, “but I think you took him out of context.” 

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