Don't worry, Ken, there's room in Barbie's world

Let’s hear it for Ken. Yes, I’m talking about the Mattel doll or, as my son called him in his daycare days, “Barbie’s action figure.”

- Clarence Page

My wife and I saw Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie” in the theater a few nights ago, seeking something therapeutically light after seeing “Oppenheimer,” and I now see Barbie’s perpetual boyfriend with new eyes.

Typical of members of our generation, my wife loved Barbie like a member of her family, she told me, especially after Mattel widened its choices of Barbie’s complexion, which is why I took her to see the “Barbie” film. Gerwig and her co-writer, Noah Baumbach, are two of their generation’s most interesting filmmakers, and besides, I didn’t want fellow moviegoers to see me and wonder why an old guy had come to “Barbie” by himself.

As a fan of G.I. Joe toys in my younger days, I wondered, in particular, how this film would handle Ken, whom I recall as a perpetual second banana to Barbie’s stardom.