Barbie:
The Bitter Reality Behind the Dream
It was the memorable performance by child actress Kim Sae-ron in her previous film (The Man From Nowhere), rivaling that of any adult, which prompted me to watch Barbie. We have grown accustomed to the fact that Korean film titles can often mislead the unsuspecting viewer; a popular or "plastic" title frequently hides a content that is quite the opposite, and Barbie is no exception.
Anyone expecting a lighthearted children’s movie is gravely mistaken. With Barbie, we have entered the world of reality-based films that explore social issues—specifically, that powerful current which is unafraid of ruthless opinion-forming or shattering taboos.
Director Lee Sang-woo’s previous films have focused, without exception, on "delicate" topics—peripheral phenomena that those chasing the dreams of a consumer society prefer to place in the blind spot of their vision. His films, characterized by a ruthless honesty, were born in the realm of independent cinema and have achieved success at Western film festivals. While Lee Sang-woo is also famous for having served as an assistant director to Kim Ki-duk, his films resemble his renowned colleague's work only in the challenging nature of their questioning; stylistically, they are closer to a form of documentary realism than to an aestheticized or moralizing response.
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| Director Lee Sang-woo |
Barbie, however, is not an independent but a commercial film, and naturally, it was granted a significantly larger budget. This provided the director with greater maneuverability, and Director Lee successfully navigated the challenge: he created a film that works within mainstream distribution without making concessions regarding its critical stance.
At the heart of the story, we see a family whose members live light-years away from the world of wealth and well-being. The setup is extreme: following the death of the mother, the daily care of a disabled father and a sickly younger sister falls upon a young girl. This is Soon-young’s life. However, there is another family member—an uncle—who seeks a way out of this impossible situation and finds it in a staggering solution. As a result of his meddling, Steve arrives from America at the small seaside settlement, bringing his daughter, Barbie, with him. Steve’s intention is to adopt Soon-young. Yet, this ostensibly benevolent act stands in sharp contrast to the man's air of superiority and his detachment from every element of Korean reality—and most significantly, from the little girl he intends to take into his family.
Within moments, we find ourselves in an interestingly conflicted field: the world of the young girls. By chance, Soon-young becomes friends with Barbie, but due to language barriers, she cannot make it understood that she has no intention of leaving her family behind. Not so her younger sister, who, even as a child, is a total prisoner of the "American Dream." In her mind, adoption is nothing less than redemption—a direct path to Canaan. Thus, she enters into a struggle with her older sister and does everything to win Steve’s favor, ultimately succeeding.
Behind-the-scenes motives come together from small mosaics, eventually pulling the veil off the true purpose of the adoption. The film, which until now hasn't strayed far from the tropes of family drama, touches upon the essential question at this point: how is it possible for the transaction between Steve and the uncle to take place? What drives this young Korean "nobody" to betray his closest relative? Will his future life be happy once he acquires the desired goods? What might be going through the American’s mind when he thinks of Korean (Eastern) people? What will happen to Barbie, who arrives with a pure soul and leaves as a member of a criminal conspiracy? And how will Soon-young survive, realizing that although these events crashed down upon her against her will, she still played a part in something terrible happening?
The film’s greatest virtue is that it leaves us alone to answer these questions. At the same time, it lays down several guidelines—somewhat didactically—to steer us toward the "correct" answer (observe, for instance, the imagery of national flags; the American flag is still waving in the hand of the departing younger sister). Perhaps this strong directorial intent also causes the film's greatest weakness: the characters are drawn with excessively thick outlines. Every character is somewhat "one-dimensional," and as a result, they lack the deeper internal struggles that could bring them closer to us. While the unscrupulous uncle (Lee Chun-hee)—driven by an aggressive desire to escape deep poverty—is given a few opportunities to show faint shades of complexity, it is particularly painful that one of the key figures, Steve (Earl Jackson), becomes almost a caricature due to an unfortunate, overacted performance and awkwardly written dialogue.
The character of the Korean father is much more fascinating. Although the unusual acting task might have prompted actor Jo Yong-suk to lose himself in the meticulous portrayal of the symptoms of disability, he still movingly conveys the paternal realization that his child is in danger, along with the panic stemming from his helplessness. This makes him almost the only "normal" figure in the film, creating a strange contrast with a reality in which this man is considered the "simpleton."
The children’s performances provide a flawless experience. Interestingly, alongside the magnificent Kim Sae-ron, we see her real-life younger sister, Kim Ah-ron, in the role of the younger sibling; her performance is in no way inferior to Sae-ron’s. Cat Tebow’s portrayal of Barbie’s inner struggle is equally sensitive.
Lee Sang-woo is not only a director but also an actor, appearing in almost all of his films. Here, he steps into the skin of a hotel guest, authentically portraying a vulgar, drunken customer who doesn't shy away from child solicitation.
Barbie is a movie I recommend to any viewer interested in a director's challenging, provocative vision of his own society—one he warns against becoming complicit in the selling out of its own values to foreigners for the sake of primary material interests.
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