Barbie review - uneasy blend of farce and feminism
Greta Gerwig's Barbieland comes with muddled kitsch baggage
The prologue to Greta Gerwig’s Barbie augurs well. A gaggle of young girls in a rocky desert are playing with doll-babies while enacting the mind-numbing drudgery of the early 20th century housewife. Then a new godhead arrives, a giant pretty blonde whose stilettoed feet turn slightly inwards. The girls go into a frenzy of old-doll-smashing, Also Sprach Zarathustra swells up and one girl throws her doll high in the air.
Those aspirants are Mia (Emma Stone), an audition-weary actress, and Sebastian (
And in a film which lacks many supporting characters - John Legend (pictured above) is among the few other names on view, as the leader of the band Sebastian joins - Gosling proves a debonair delight as arguably the more surprisingly cast of the two leads. (Emma Watson and Miles Teller were the first tapped to play these roles.) His withheld power and quiet charm are well suited to the Star is Born-like trajectory of a character who valiantly holds out against the smothering sameness of the culture that the film itself resists. The movie ends with a postscript that ramps up the pathos, and why not? Set in a town famous for crash landings, La La Land offers the promise that, in the right circumstances, a few do get the chance and the space to soar. 
Drive
Only God Forgives
The plot may be the point of How Do You Like My Car, Big Boy? but, while it keeps the characters on the move, it’s not exactly central to The Nice Guys. It involves, for the record, the criminal involvement of the car industry in a secret plan to thwart the green lobby. The pleasures are mostly to do with the rambunctious, knockabout antics of the two improvising male leads as they variously flirt and threaten their way through the immoral maze of the case. Crowe channels his drizabone inner Ocker to punch first and reflect later, and makes a lovely foil for Gosling’s hyperactive mugging. One delicious little sequence finds him ambushed in the john, attempting to keep his dignity with a girlie magazine over his privates. Somehow Gosling, hitherto the most straight-faced Hollywood lead of his generation, manages to make it extraordinarily funny.
But that was only the start. In order to exploit his startling insight, Burry had to persuade the bankers to create the credit default swap, whereby he could bet large on the collapse of the US housing market. Since everybody had convinced themselves that the housing business, anchored on the personal investments of millions of honest Americans, could never go wrong, they were delighted to oblige.
That's just one of several devices the director shuffles to fend off glazed-eye syndrome. On-screen text might pop up helpfully, while spliced-in flashes of pop-culture imagery add a subliminal timeline. A deadpan sequence of how staid and boring banking used to be before the 1980s evokes a sleepy world of sludge-green and taupe, where bankers were mostly at lunch and two per cent was considered a handsome profit. The best trick is the unashamedly gratuitous introduction of celebrities to explain thorny plot points – "to tell you about subprime mortgages, here's Margot Robbie in a bubble-bath", or svelte popstrel Selena Gomez teaming up with economist Richard Thaler to give y'all the lowdown on "Synthetic CDOs".