Editors’ Note: This article includes spoilers for both Barbie and Oppenheimer. You’ve been warned.
Quantum physics, communism and the atomic bomb. Plastic, feminism, and dolls. At first glance, “Oppenheimer” (dir. Christopher Nolan) and “Barbie” (dir. Greta Gerwig) appear to be incredibly different films. However, they have a lot more in common than meets the eye.
Both protagonists commence their journeys in idyllic worlds. Stereotypical Barbie (Margot Robbie) awakens in an all-pink Dreamhouse in the heart of patriarchy-free Barbieland – vibrant and camp (with a few seemingly random dance numbers). After nearly murdering his physics teacher in Cambridge (early insight into his capacity for destruction), J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) perches in his ivory tower at UC Berkeley, his mind mesmerized by dazzling visions of particles and waves. As he continually reminds colleagues throughout the film, he engages merely with quantum theory, not the mathematical substance of his work.
Soon, however, Barbie begins to suffer from inescapable thoughts of death, flat feet, and – the horror – cellulite (hey, Gerwig, I thought this was supposed to be a feminist film?). After visiting Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon), Barbie sets off on an adventure to the Real World, alongside Ken (Ryan Gosling), to find the woman who played with her as a child, Gloria (America Ferrera). In Oppenheimer’s quantum theory class, a student arrives with a shocking revelation – Otto Hahn has successfully split the atom. After assuring General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) of his loyalty to the United States, Oppenheimer ventures to Los Alamos, New Mexico, where his team of scientists is tasked with creating an atomic bomb.
Although now engaged with the complexities of the real world, both maintain their dream world dispositions. Expecting to be lauded by other women, Barbie is instead greeted with catcalls, an all-male Mattel boardroom, and a long rant about Barbie’s “glorification of rampant consumerism” (promptly followed by a chase scene with sleek shots of Chevrolets soaring effortlessly over curbs). Meanwhile, her formerly emasculated companion, Ken, discovers the patriarchy and decides to introduce it to the rest of the Kens. At Los Alamos, Oppenheimer’s early communist connections begin to encumber him. At a dinner party, his close friend, Haakon Chevalier (Jefferson Hall), mentions that a mutual connection, George Eltenton, has means of passing information to the Soviets. Later, when questioned about the incident, Oppenheimer refuses to give Chevalier’s name, and delivers a “cock and bull story.” (I entered with prior knowledge of the suspicions surrounding Oppenheimer’s communist sympathies, and even so, this portion of the plot is extremely confusing at times. The “Chevalier incident” and the subsequent scene with Lt. Col. Boris Pash are not expressed clearly, and a major aspect of the film could easily be lost on viewers unfamiliar with the historical background.)
Barbie returns home to find that Ken has transformed her Dreamhouse into a Mojo Dojo Casa House and instated the patriarchy throughout Barbieland. Although she eventually restores the world to its usual utopia with the help of Weird Barbie and Gloria, Barbie’s consciousness of mortality and the intricacy of human experience makes it impossible to return to her previously dormant state. After the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Oppenheimer realizes the true ramifications of his discovery beyond mere theory and speculation. He has become death, the destroyer of worlds; an American Prometheus. He spins into an existential crisis, attempting to reconcile his actions and struggling with the ethical justifications (like a good Fieldston alum) for hundreds of thousands of deaths. Although packaged distinctly, both films are gripping explorations of what it means to be human.
Notably, if unintentionally, “Oppenheimer” is an all-too-accurate depiction of the real world that Barbie encounters. Like Mattel’s headquarters, every boardroom and classroom is almost completely male. Women are portrayed in hysterics – Oppenheimer’s romantic life consists of a wailing, drunk Kitty Oppenheimer (Emily Blunt), and seductive yet suicidal Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh). Nolan shows what Gerwig only tells. Yes, “Barbie” is effective at eliciting emotion in its searing critique of the patriarchy. I watched it twice, and cried both times. But what does it inform women of that we didn’t already know? How does it celebrate, not merely lament the female experience? Barbie doesn’t exactly practice what she preaches. “You’re so beautiful,” she tells an elderly woman at a bus stop – but panics at the first splotch of cellulite (which 80-90% of post-pubescent women will likely experience). America Ferrera’s viral and painfully accurate monologue is little more than that – painful. Barbie apologizes to Ken for ignoring him, but Ken never takes responsibility for brainwashing the Barbies and attempting to overthrow the government. And, in the end, Barbie chooses to be a part of the patriarchy, to live as a “real woman” – perhaps a commentary on the joys of being human, but certainly not the joys of being female. Honestly, the whole movie seems to be about how miserable womanhood is. Nevertheless, Gerwig does add to the conversation – and has still produced an enjoyable watch. Undeniably, “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer” are both masterfully cast. The former boasts delightfully crafted set design, superb costumes, and hilarious one-liners, while the latter demonstrates an incredible manipulation of audio and stunning cinematography (Nolan is certainly heavy on the melodrama). For most Fieldston students, I recommend watching both.
In many ways, Fieldston is comparable to Barbieland and the ivory tower. Although students grapple with ethical issues and societal inequities in class, the majority of the student body is likely not directly affected by these realities on a day-to-day basis. Regardless, our actions have a tangible impact on the world – and as “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer” demonstrate, no one can remain in paradise forever.
