Shootin' off Kenergy

The boys in the barroom living it up, shootin' off Kenergy! The guys on the sidewalk workin' it out, talkin' 'bout Kenergy! Kenergy! Kenergy! Kenergy! Go on just say it. Share it with the world. It feels good. I know you've all been waiting for this one. Might not have double billed them as I should have but I'm considering operation Barbenheimer: complete. What a phenonmenon that has been. One for him and one for her. One to make you miserable and one to make you happy. Normally, these types of films are competing with each other but in a rare incidence these two films supported each other and everyone got behind it including the directors. Noone could lose, competition was erased. Talking about one increased the popularity of the other. Cinemas greatest friendship. This is unprecedented. Regardless of your thoughts on the movies to see this unique model being used that brought everyone to the cinema in unity is something as a film fan you can only champion. Nolan may not have saved cinema with the under-appreciated Tenet but Barbenheimer might.

I picked up my own Barbie from the bus stop by Five Guys at 16:45. We headed down to Mathew Street, had a single pint to take the edge off and made our way to the cinema. At the kiosk, we decide to order a bottle of wine each. Oh no, I'm thinking I'm barely over last night's drinking with The Meg 2. Some things you just have to do though. Like imagine seeing Barbie and not being completely wine drunk. You'd have to take a good long look at yourself and maybe tweet an apology to Greta Gerwig herself. Couldn't let her down like that. If your heads not in Barbieland you're not ready to see this motion picture. When it started there was an age rating that appeared which I may have seen a couple of times in my life. Namely in Mamma Mia. This film is rated W for Wine Drunk. Anyone not seen with a glass of wine in their hand as they walk through the golden doors will be refused entry. A bouncer stands in shades on arrival, just two items on the checklist, Dan's and water drinkers are excluded. So if you don't want the hand as big as a brick wall invading your line of sight and the "not tonight", then I advise you make sure you're well stocked up otherwise you're not getting past the kiosk.

To avoid such a travesty, we remembered we had 2 hands, meaning one for a bottle of wine and the other for the glass. This is how God, Mattel, Hasbro or whoever the fuck created us. Simple mathematics. I sent Ricardo Carvalho a picture of my second plastic wine container in 24 hours, captioned with, "we go again!". Yep, I was back on the sauce. Any more of this and I'd need to get me one of those cringey signs to hang on my wall like, "Ask not wine has done for you but rather what you're willing to do for wine". Ricardo's reply was just, "you animal!"

On that hair of the dog, we bounce on over to our seats and I pour us our first glass of vino. Unfortunately, it's bad trailer after bad trailer, meaning that this is usually an indicator of what you're going to get or that a marketer has not positioned it right. There's a trailer for some Disney movie. Christ, those guys will never stop. Whatever keeps the kids happy. Luckily, I don't have to see too many of them cause my kid Weng Weng is more in to his Amblin Entertainment these days so I get to avoid all that. "What are you doing for the Disney 100 night?", asks my Barbie. "Barbie, I'm 26 years old. I can't really say I was clued up on the fact those fascists had been going that long". The machine rolls on and they keep pumping them out.

I forgot how much that Disney princess shit works on women. Really messes with their cerebrum. I seen it happen, man. It's worse than 'nam. Barbie doubles down with, "you are celebrating it with me". I turn to face her and look deep in to her eyes as I add, "do I have to?". Always making you do stupid shit women. You never get this from the guys. I mentioned I could probably handle Fantasia and Joe Dante's Looney Tunes: Back in Action but any more would be considered torture of the male species. All I hoped was Gerwig's Barbie wasn't going to be some soft get the tissues out and cry live action Disney movie. Like a true white girl, I came to drink wine and behave stupidly. Anything even remotely sentimental can take the bus.

Barbie gets this show on the road in the perfect way, becoming Jacques Tati's PlayTime on Sauvignon Blanc. A real stylistic triumph for Greta Gerwig. From the colour palette to the music. Honestly, it's immaculate and I had a fabulous time just getting lost in her creation and figuring out its rules. There's this existential 2001 style opening that gets points for the weirdness of having a massive Margot Robbie reaching in to the skies. Where it fails is the punchline of the doll being thrown in to the air. I was kept in suspense wondering how the match cut would work. Kubrick used his match cut (the most famous in cinema) to make the link between a development of technology and war by going from this bone to a ship. Whereas, Gerwig doesn't seem to know what a match cut is for (even Highlander knew how to use them!) and just goes straight to the title credits. Booooooo, very lazy. A missed opportunity.

In this world, Girls Just Want to Have Fun plays constantly, everybody dances 'til the sun goes down and nobody fights. Reminiscent of Miami Vice's pilot where Tubb's is sipping on some cocktail on the beach and his partner Crockett turns up in a peach suit jacket and sunnies having defeated toxic masculinity but in Barbieland men are now subservient slaves like the dystopian Planet of the Apes . I think they call it feminism. My notes on Barbieland: it's like the real world, except women are in charge. I know how preposterous. But they can dream. Even got a black woman president. Please, we've barely got past blacks dying first in slashers so this is just outrageous. Honourable gentlemen Nixon and Reagan would be turning in their graves if they got word of this shit. Ken's have only one function and that is to serve their Barbie. To make her happy at all costs. There is no selfworth, only pure altruism. Wrapped around the finger like when Mads Mikkelson played Rihanna's bitch in the Bitch Better Have My Money music video. He's Just Ken.

On one bright morning, Ken decides he will provide Barbie with some fresh entertainment by surfing a wave like Frankie Avalon. As is revealed, Ken has more in common with losers like Brian Wilson and myself, being more of a HoDad or beach bum who does not possess any natural surfing abilities.

There's two types of people in this world. Those who are here to surf the big wave like Patrick Swayze and those of us who rock up the beach in Hawaii shirts, shorts, sandals and sunnies singing, "Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take ya, Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama, Key Largo, Montego. Baby why don't we go? Jamaica!". Ken fits in the latter category with the rest of us posers. This leads in to the amazing scene where Ken injures himself and all the boys start screaming they're gonna "beach" each other off. This was incredible, as a throwback to the beach cycle and Elvis movies but through the peculiar mind of Greta Gerwig, this was a real treat. Her most effortlessly fun movie. I've never been a big fan of musicals but I love dance movies and that's what this was a big budget music heavy hangout. Some absolutely stellar movies being thrown. There isn't a name for it yet but I'd like to nominate, "The Ken shuffle" Already seen this doing the rounds perfectly synched to Kavinsky's Nightcall. I want to see this move at the next gaff and if it doesn't come complete with the wicked smirk and wine throw, don't even bother showing up.

So far everything was being communicated through style. It was all about the visual creation of its world and understanding the dynamic between characters in a purely Tati sense. Script more background noise in avantgarde fashion. Exactly the political spectacle it wanted to be without being irritatingly forced. However, the good times wouldn't last. As soon as they visit the real world, the heavy handed moralising comes out and it reveals a week script. The critique becomes far too clear and obvious ruining the impact. There's no way it will ever get you to change your mind about your feelings towards the patriarchal society but as a big dumb silly tongue cheek criticism it’s a guaranteed good time, as long as you've got an ample amount of vino. Keep sipping away laughing at the surreal fish out of water sketches of Ken applying for jobs on beaches, demanding to be a doctor and chatting shit about horses. The wackiness triumphs over the seriousness.

Here we are trying to celebrate women and there's that cheeky bastard Ryan Gosling as Ken stealing the show with his insanely memorable performance. When he declares, "every night is boys night", I raised my glass to the roof and let out a long loud, "yesssssss!" Every dude in the house loved that and also began cheering and raising their glasses. Heaviest thing is I don't even know if I meant that one ironically. I wasn't too sure how to feel about any of it. This movie really took off when Ken was being a bad boy. Reads a few books in the real world, sneaks back off to Barbieland and infiltrates it to be a male dominant society. Like the naughty Biff in Back to the Future Part 2, he's making a few changes round here! Only wrongdoers (w*men) should be worried. Dudes most certainly rock in Kenland. After my outburst, my Barbie asks, "what's so funny?". W*men.

Later, my Barbie was trying to give me a breakdown of her week. This I genuinely did want to know but not right at this moment. "Babe, can't you see Ken's speaking right now. That's my guy right there. I need to know what his message for my people is", I quickly fired across. Ken's wardrobe is impeccable and you can't beat the camp elements of him bringing out all his kung fu moves and storming the beaches like its Normandy. Where was this guy back in World War 2? Churchill would have loved him. Who wouldn't? Gosling genuinely surprised me here and there's real talk of early Oscar buzz. Something that doesn't fully sit right with me though because correct me if I'm wrong but isn't this girls hour? Celebrating female achievements and what not? Truthfully we may have to consider the fact that Margot Robbie might not be a very good actor. I mean, she's great to look at and I'm always rooting for her but this isn't the first time she's failed to go beyond being a visual spectacle.

Both of these leads were superbly cast because over the years Goslings forged and I say this with complete respect for his art, a wooden persona. I've written about this before but I think he's one of the most interesting actors to emerge in the last 20 years or so. Where you see wood, I see an artist. A once in a generation kind of actor.

We've had Dicaprio, who deserves respect for bringing in the crowds on non-franchise R-rated movies that aren't part of the superhero genre and pretty much keeping that rating alive at studio level. The Wolf of Wall Street is arguably more his movie than Scorsese's. Dicaprio brings that raw Caligula ugly debauchery parodying both himself and the horrors he's seen in the industry since he was a boy. Dicaprio was the one brought the book to Scorsese's attention in the first place like DeNiro did with Raging Bull Scorsese struggles to make a decent character study out of it narratively like he did with previous controversial characters. So you tell me who's movie that is? We've had Nic Cage, forced to act in cheap DTV garbage due to his debts and using the increased creative freedom to expand on his style of Nouveau Shamanic. We've had Willem Dafoe who's completely fearless and challenged himself by working with every single decent director to emerge in our time.

If an auteur could be an actor though, it would be most appropriately used to describe Ryan Gosling today. David Fincher is the director best associated with the digital age but as an actor it has to be Gosling. He's really mastered taking that isolated detachment in the post-internet, post-Ok Computer world. A cold robotic inability to express emotions with his outer shell with too much of a distinction between his thoughts and actions to the point of being an avatar. Demonstrating it time and time again with Drive, Blade Runner 2049, Only God Forgives and First Man Hence, why I believe he's put that wooden persona of his to good use. Many people tell me he's a bad actor with limited range but I don't care about that. I don't really care about whether a performance is good or bad. I care about how it contributes to the overall vision. I care about the choices they make and the projects they opt to work on. Subscribing to the Alfred Hitchcock school that actors are best described as cattle or pawns, possibly you could say I have less respect for actors than I should but as for Gosling, he's a real artist.

All this leaves you to wonder, how could he then play this high energy ultra camp dude? Well, he's subverted his persona, expanding it in the most unexpected ways. I don't think he's ever going to be a fast paced actor. Even when he's done projects like The Nice Guys with that back and forth buddy cop relationship, he's done it in a unique way, that isn't Joe Pesci, Chris Tucker or Eddie Murphy motormouth but wholly economical achieving a lot with very little. He achieves it through these small but extremely noticeable movements of the body. That's exactly how he's gone about bringing this doll to the screen. Cause let's be honest, taking a child's play thing and building a character out of it is no easy thing.

It brings me no joy to say Margot Robbie doesn't achieve the same here. She is perfect for the role in that she looks flawless and she's best known for her foot flaunters, the near wordless Sharon Tate and the duchess of Bay Ridge Naomi Lapaglia. Tarantino got a lot of stick for his lack of dialogue given to her but I always thought he was going for this heavenly one more day on Earth utopia for an actress who's time was sadly cut short. More of a visual document. Perhaps, the real failing was Robbie, who was unable to communicate anything physically. There's a fantastic joke in Barbie where Helen Mirren as the narrator says something like, "note from the filmmakers it is really hard to make this point with Margot Robbie". In that scene, it's in reference to ugliness but it would also appear to be a wider commentary for the whole film.

As she can't create this character of Barbie that is as solidified as Ken, any points being made about girl power can be rendered useless. There's almost two films going on competing with each other in that second half. There's the black comedy satire of Kenworld and the progressive female championing as Barbie tries to rescue her fellow women. The latter is swept aside by the hilarious comedy of the former, reducing a lot of the progressive points to a whimper. In a sense, there's the movie this should be and the movie Greta Gerwig is trying to make it.

Whilst, I have always loved Geta's acting abilities, I've found her rocky in the director's chair. She blew up after Lady Bird and was referred to far too quickly as one of the best modern day directors. The relationship between mother and daughter is shallow with nothing happening between them to warrant the extreme emotional responses and the observations on 2000s culture rather boring. Little Women had no hope for it. It was just a bunch of women screaming feminism for 2 hours. Very dull, very obvious and very theatrical. And you know I hate anything that commits these sins. I like everything coded otherwise it's just lazy rubbish telling you what you already know. Impact is reduced to nil, don't expect to be surprised, trailers reveal the full story.

When it became clear that Ryan Gosling's Ken was overpowering the movie, they should have tapped in to this more and shaped the narrative further around it. Gerwig's direction swings to naivety by playing it both sides of parodying patriarchy and championing women. It's far too rosy cheeked and bright eyed. Arguably, this could be my exploitation head speaking but this should have taken a dirtier direction. In my mind, the best way to get a point across without appearing preachy is to side with the enemy and do it from their perspective. Let the bad guy shoot themselves in the foot. It's the least annoying strategy. You don't have to make the good people all high and mighty good, that just comes this really obnoxious and unbelievable self-righteous experience. Let the bad guy do all the work for you. It's more fun!

Once again, going back to that exploitation B-Movie head of mine, what this needed was more of a Joe Dante angle. Something like Gremlins and Small Soldiers with that wacky irresponsible dangerous subversiveness rather than all the sweet innocence. When she meets the Mattel board, all men without a woman in sight, we needed more of that harsh and condemning style of comedy. Watching them all sweating as they try to back up their female connections was a delight.

There's a fantastic moment too when Ken invites Barbie back to his place but in the most childish manner, doesn't know what they'll do once back at maison de Ken. Exploitation head again but this was on the sexless side. There needed to be more awkward jokes like that and maybe even a bizarre sex scene. Being a fan of films like Bride of Chucky, this is definitely what I've come to expect from a doll movie and this was certainly tame. Could just be me though, I'll accept that. Would it have stood a chance against Beau is Afraid for most outrageous and awkward sex scene of the year? The answer is only if Jacob Kelly was in charge.

In my hands, Barbie would be more of a big budget repulsive sex spectacle than its turned out to be. I'd be trying to remake Caligula with Kenworld. Ken would be shoving cream up people's arses and fisting them like Malcolm McDowell. There'd be a real clash of sparkly cheery camp and the disgusting, just to keep people on their toes. It would probably be so morally ambiguous that the critics would be saying it crosses the line between satirising and endorsing. But that is where we operate. Nothing more nothing less.

I'm conscious, I've been very critical here of Barbie, which is odd because I really enjoyed it, especially so when it came to the hangout, general weirdness, existentialism (the 2001 reference and late one when they bring out the Oracle in reference to The Matrix) as opposed to the more aggressively political piece it wanted to be. It was too honest to be politically effective, as I said, it needed to be more twisted in that department to catch you off guard.

In Barbie, I can see two sides to Gerwig's style. One I appreciate, the other I don't. For the first time as a director, she's brought that upbeat musical sensibility from Frances Ha. My favourite scene from that being the dancing in the street to Bowie. Barbies like the bigger budget re-imagining with all these wonderful dance routines. Those early scenes are a real party. On the other hand, we also get Gerwig doing that Little Women feminist whimpering with no effect whatsoever.

Girl, if you really want to deliver on that department, you need to get nasty. Go full Agnes "I tried to be a joyful feminist. But I was very angry" Varda mode. There once existed a weird connection between mumblecore and horror (the Creep series being a fine example) and it's not like Gerwig wasn't at that exact intersection, she literally got her head blown off in The House of the Devil. I know this definitely just sounds a personal thing but generally, when I've seen a dumb doll movie work, it's because it's a lot cheekier and more subversive than this.

Credit where credits due though, Barbie is a barrel of laughs and in spite of its narrative and characterisation flaws, as a man raised on endless episodes of Miami Vice, Scarface and upbeat summery action comedies like Beverly Hills Cop who came to love Frankie Avalon and Elvis movies, I'm too enamoured by its camp to call it a bad movie. Trust me, when I say I understand beach mode, I understand beach mode. There's to be no fucking around here. As a member of the fun and silly movement, beach mode is a large part of my DNA. In fact, I haven't been able to shake beach mode for weeks. I'll still be keeping this up no doubt 'til winter, echoing that scene in The Ninth Configuration when Captain Cutshaw strolls over in beach attire saying, "take me to the beach!". To which Colonel Kane replies, "it's night and it's raining". If this happens, you just come back with Captain Cutshaw's response of, "I see you're determined to start an argument"

Also, given the main intention here was to show that women genuinely ruling men is a common misunderstanding of the goals of feminism, the film mainly does a good job as it plays with both a male dominant and female dominant society and then goes on to say feminism is really about equality between genders. However, part of me does think, you’re making a dolls movie, you don't really have to make the accurate point, you're here to be mental so maybe trash men some more. Still, Ken is my leader and I couldn't let him down like that. He fought for our right to boys night every night and should be rewarded as such.

After, we got through the 2 bottles of vino and the credits were rolling, we made a dive towards the nearest crazy golf. Barbie's had more than a few drinks at this point and has to be told to fix her clothing at the door. She was the victim of one of those dresses that keeps slipping. Next, she was struggling to operate her phone to pay. I had to take over by grabbing the phone and moving it towards the card reader. Women pay for things now, it's called feminism, look it up.

The guy behind the till presents us with two visors and we get kitted up. As we stroll over to hole one to tee off, Super Freak by Rick James is pumping out through the speakers and it suddenly occurs to me, with the visor and golf club, I've never exuded so much Kenergy in all my life. Maybe I didn't have the blonde hair and blue eyes but if you're viewing it that way perhaps you need to change your name to Adolf and purchase a copy of Mein Kampf.

Caught up in Rick James, it takes me a good few minutes to realise I don't know where I'm going. There's a staff member on hand nearby and I ask, "Where's the Gary? I'm looking for Gary?". She points me in the direction of Gary. No, I wasn't looking for the pills this evening, that was the name of our course. Soon as we begin teeing up, Barbie decides she wants a drink to go round with. I'm all in on that one, what was I thinking going round empty handed? God, what is this amateur hour? I order a couple of rum and cokes. Doubles. No messing about. The woman on the bar refuses to serve us. "Why?", I demand to know. She points to Barbie, who's dress has now slipped over her shoulder once more. We were revealing too much boob. A second time now I'd been totally oblivious to this issue. "We're just having a good time though?", I say to the bar lady in my defence. "I can get her a water", concedes the bar lady. "I think that would be a good idea", I tell her.

Pictured: Ken on his way to pick up Barbie in the Barbiemobile

In the corner, we fix the dress situation and move on to rehydration. As Brad Pitt said in Moneyball, "it's a process". Time for a trip to the bar take 2. This is the moment I notice I'm flying low, like real low. Fuck sake. Must have left it down following the standard post-cinema piss. That's what that is. Jesus, what a pair. One of us needs to get our head screwed on immediately. Upon making it to the bar, I make sure to go to a different person this time and we're all good. The beverages are flowing once more and the good times continue.

Having taken care of the drinks, we return to the Gary, ready to tee off hole one. Without further delay, I'm keen to get this golf game started. Rearing to go. Politicians in My Eyes by Death is roaring across the room. I'm not too sure how many people had to overtake us cause we were taking too long on each hole. I was hammering them in to the bar area and Barbie didn't even know where the ball was. Also, if you don't curse every inanimate object on the course that ruins your shot in crazy golf, I just don't respect you as a person. Since, keeping count in a state like this impossible, I make sure to mark every hole 1 or 2 under par. As king of memory manipulation, Leonard Shelby said, "Do I lie to myself to be happy? Yes"

Finally, we make it to the 9th hole and we're all done but Barbie doesn't want to leave. She explains to me the problem and I tell another group of people to go ahead of us, saying, "she's having an existential crisis at hole 9". "We've all been there", replies the golfer. I'd heard of this. Only a true golfer would understand. It's that phenomenon right after bursting off a few holes and then facing a return to reality. The linksmen call it post-golf dysphoria. You want to go back to hole 1 but alas, you can't. Life does not work that way. Once you are off the course, you are done. You only get this life guaranteed and that is it. No restarts, no retakes. There is no backwards, just forwards. I can only tell my Barbie that things will get better, I promise.

Since we're both useless to the world in our current state, having been proved by a horrifying performance on the Gary, I decide it's time to escort the lady back home and so we make our way back to the bus stop. The bus driver makes reference to Barbie's boob being out again. She fixes it for the last time and we grab ourselves some seats. "This dress is coming a serious problem", says Barbie. "Yeah, tonight it's been our Achilles...erm....foot", I add. Having completely botched that one, I know it's time for bed. Not even 10pm but when you know it's over, it's all over. Let the soil fall over my head. Blow the whistle, throw in the towel and abandon the game. We've made a fool of ourselves. How did I forget where Achilles got shot? I've seen Troy with Brad Pitt a million times!

You know Wolfgang Peterson made 2 more pictures after Troy. The penultimate being this dreadful Poseidon remake with Kurt Russell. One last stab at a boat movie. Must have thought he was 10 men because he'd made the German submarine classic Das Boot years ago and decided if there was anyone who could bring back the '70s big budget disaster movie it was him. You're a spent force, Wolfgang. Go home! Should have hit the hay or more appropriately abandoned ship. The moment you feel the soil pouring over your head and you've firmly outstayed your welcome that's when you cut your losses and cry out, "Gute nacht alles und danke fur coming. Auf Widersehn!". Being a responsible man, unlike our friend Wolfgang Peterson, I say, "Barbie, get me to bed".

Without further ado, she grants my request and directs me to the nearest bed. She would later say, "well, you didn't fuck me on a park bench this time", with major relief and minor disappointment, relating to a drunken evening a few years back. "I know right. I guess this means our friendship is blossoming", was my reply.

***A note here from the editor, public sex has popped up on two separate occasions in recent weeks, to be clear, Funeralopolis does not condone public sex. This is strictly a Kelly problem and he says he is working on it. We asked him to come clean on any further incidents that may bring shame to this respectful zine and he said, "No further incidents. Oh wait, there was one time when a few of us were cramped in a Berlin public toilet cubicle getting up to no good, praying the number of feet didn't give us away. Does that count?". "Well, kind of answered your own question there", was all our editor in chief could respond. We will be monitoring this situation closely and if necessary taking it up with the relevant support groups.***

Brain fried from the wine, this body is ready to shut down. Dirty, the beloved household cat, named after the infamous Wu Tang Clan member who once evaded the authorities only to be caught in a McDonalds, is perched on the windowsill. He's gazing in to the lone eye of the moon, waiting to welcome the morning and ensuring I come to no harm. An energetic fellow that cat but being Doctor Doolittle, we had managed to bond earlier in the evening and were now best of friends. I would not let anything hurt him and he would not let anything hurt me. Gazing in to each other's eyes, it was total respect, we knew this game was ride or die. Nothing less would do, I would take a bullet for Dirty and him me. No question about it. That was loyalty you couldn't buy. I'm good with animals, they say I have a real "calming presence". Whatever that means.

I just knew it was time to sleep. The Meg, the Barbie and the vino had done a number on me. And to think this was meant to be a chilled month. Especially, after last month's dreams of mushroom clouds and visions of the apocalypse. This was meant to be a take it easy issue. Maybe this is the motto at Funeralopolis, "next month we shall get our shit together". Waiting for the thing that never comes. "Mañana", as the Mexicans say.

A cold wind blows through, summers final words. Autumn is dawning and soon will take everything in her path. Shorter days and longer nights. The exhausted landscape sheds its skin so it may be reborn again. Onlookers can only give in to the process and witness the harmonic cycle or be condemned to melancholia. I look over at my guardian protector ODB, he glances at me and then back through the open window. Outside down below, I see three women stood looking at a misty golden vision with a bugle and drum. Dirty and I are just waiting for the miracle to come