Everyone at the alamo Barbie Blowout Party advance screening I attended had come ready to Barbie party, decked out in head-to-toe pink, high heels, and blonde wigs. As the soundtrack blared, moviegoers yelled “Hi, Barbie!” to strangers, snapped pictures in their promotional pink berets and heart-shaped sunglasses, drank watermelon margaritas, and seat-danced to Dua Lipa. A male photographer roamed the room taking pictures of everyone vibing on the anticipation that was building to a near frenzy thanks to a relentlessly ecstatic monthslong marketing campaign. As he stopped to take a photo of the woman next to me, and the new Margot Robbie Barbie she’d purchased, he asked if the movie was supposed to be lighthearted or cerebral—he couldn’t tell from the trailer. Her advice: “It’s the Barbie movie. Just leave big words out of it and enjoy.” I don’t think my neighbor or anyone else there expected to weep over the state of womanhood.
But in every Greta Gerwig movie, there is that speech, the one that forces the emotion out of you no matter how unsentimental you might be. That big juicy monologue somewhere in the third act that states everything the female protagonist wants out of life—her dreams, her desires—and everything she fears. The emotionally pure, ultrarelatable moment when Gerwig tells us how a woman should be. The music swells; the actress’s face splits open with yearning and pathos. Inevitably, someone in the movie theater gives a reflexive “Yessss” under their breath, and thousands of theater kids suddenly know what their audition monologue will be for the fall production of Our Town.
Denne historien er fra Jul 31 - Aug 13, 2023-utgaven av New York magazine.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent ? Logg på
Denne historien er fra Jul 31 - Aug 13, 2023-utgaven av New York magazine.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten