Séamas O'Reilly: Explaining the 'Barbenheimer' phenomenon and what it says about cinema

The Barbenheimer phenomenon has been immensely helped by the fact that the entire internet has decided - entirely arbitrary and with humorous intent – to directly bundle the two films into one package, playing off the smart, day-glo trappings of the former with the self-serious worthiness of the latter. 

It’s a masterstroke of canny marketing, that’s propelled expectation for both films to a fever pitch, and even precipitated long, detailed discussions as to which order they should be watched; Barbie as the amuse-bouche, before Oppenheimer’s grave main meal? Or Oppenheimer to begin, with Barbie as a light, palate-cleansing dessert?

I expect I’ll watch both films on the big screen, and will likely enjoy them too. I just don’t know where I’ll be able to do so. 

My local cinema here in Walthamstow has just closed, since the entire Empire chain went into administration last week, shuttering eight of its 14 venues nationwide. 

The world’s second-largest chain, Cineworld, has encountered similar issues, and is currently in talks regarding the future of its own UK and Irish sites. 

I find myself surprisingly upset, perhaps even guilty, since I’ve lived here for 18 months and have only visited once – to see the Avatar sequel that needed no help from me to become the third highest-grossing film of all time.

I certainly shouldn’t have been surprised. The collapse of adult contemporary cinema was already being lamented for a decade before covid lockdowns arrived and, it would seem, cemented the final death of a certain type of cinema-going experience.

The five-or-six-year vogue for 3D – which ended about a decade ago, and seems so quaintly distant even now – was itself widely reported to have been a reaction to ever-declining profits of cinemas. 

Their genius move was to popularise a more expensive way to watch films, that also had the side effect of darkening the image and giving a significant proportion of the audience migraines. 

As 3D waned, we rubbed our temples in relief, but emerged from the darkness to realise that many of the movies we once rushed to see in great numbers were simply no longer being greenlit by risk-averse movie studios, and weren’t ever coming back.

The reign of the mid-budget movies that once dominated the box is long over. 

Back then, if your movie’s poster had Morgan Freeman looking serious in a trench coat, or Reese Witherspoon grabbing a handsome young suitor by his tie, you could pretty much guarantee it would make $100 million. 

Those same films would likely make more, perhaps even as much again, on home video and DVD. That entire extra helping of cash has now been deleted by streaming platforms, and studios have decided that making 10 adult dramas for $30 million apiece is a riskier investment than throwing everything on a single $300 million franchise instalment. 

The recent writer’s strike in Hollywood has hit home how deleterious this has been, not just for audiences, but the people who make – and increasingly no longer have the opportunity to make – films and television in the first place. 

However charming Barbie ends up being, we can, and should, wonder why an indie director of such talent and verve as Greta Gerwig is reduced to throwing her lot in with a toy franchise; or how the very same industry conditions that make event films the only game in town, have also strangulated the pay and conditions of writers, actors and creatives, while greatly enriching the people calling the shots.

Some have argued that the dominance of such movies in the cinema amounts to a lamentable process of dumbing down. 

It is, of course, jarring to think that 1979’s sober and moving divorce drama, Kramer vs Kramer, not only won the Oscar for Best Picture, but was the highest-grossing movie of that year. (One wonders how much more they might have made if its stirring courtroom scenes had been rendered in 3D.) 

But rather than the entire world becoming stupider over time, it would seem more likely that very rich, boring studio executives have created a system where it pays them more for people to consume their adult-centred drama and comedy on the small screen. 

Helpless and distracted, we plebs have accepted this, because TV at least now provides grown-up content at a regular clip, in greater quality, and for a fraction of the cost.

For my wife and I to go to the cinema together now requires about £20 for the tickets, and £50 for a babysitter. 

If we both purchase a small drink and share a big popcorn, that night out is costing us the guts of £100. 

Even discounting economics, dinner, and drinks afterwards is out of the question, since we can’t keep the babysitter waiting. 

Which means we come home starving, just in time to relieve said sitter, make a quick bedtime snack, and hit the hay while mumbling sleepily about the movie we’ve just seen.

As a result, the few times we’ve done this, it’s been for “event” movies, great big dumb rollercoaster affairs that we hope will be “worth” seeing on a screen the size of a building, for the cost of a gourmet meal, and at the expense of eating at all. 

So, yes, we’re part of the problem, I’d just argue it’s not one of our own making.

The only game in town appears to be those movies which buck the usual trend. 

As the fortunes of superhero movies appear to wane, maybe Barbenheimer’s promise of big-budget movies by respected directors, aided by meme-ready online hype campaigns, is the future. 

If they can add a jolt of life back into the multiplex, fine I guess. I just need to find one to go to.