The Barbie bandwagon is out of control - and Matt Hancock is at the reins

Smash hit Barbie is the first billion-dollar feminist film. One might quibble over the details of its message, or note that for all its claims of subversion this is still a glorified ad, a film made by a toy company, Mattel, about one of its bestselling products. But the fact remains that Barbie was written and directed by a woman, Greta Gerwig; produced by a woman, its star Margot Robbie, and has an explicitly feminist story and message. The film has been a phenomenon, the first to be directed by a sole woman to pass into nine figures. It has crushed all before it at the box office – especially Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer – and enjoyed brilliant reviews.

In Gerwig’s vision, Barbie is no bimbo. She is the wise, wily and charismatic ruler of Barbie Land, a place where Barbie and her friends prioritise their own fun, while the men are reduced to sidekicks. As the film’s strapline has it, “She’s everything, he’s just Ken.” Barbies can do anything – scientist, president, astronaut, dancer, business executive, dentist, you name it – while Ken (Ryan Gosling), the gawking consort, has just one job: “Beach” (and he has an inferiority complex about it; he may not surf or swim but Beach is harder than it looks, OK?). His role is to stand around as decoration, a brainless abs model. He craves more of a relationship with Barbie but she would rather party with the girls (after all, what would Barbie and Ken do if they spent the night together, given that neither has any genitals?). He grapples with his sense of self-worth. His showstopper solo, I’m Just Ken, is the story of him coming to terms with his mediocrity.

Enter, of all people, Matt Hancock, in pursuit of the bandwagon. The outgoing MP for West Suffolk never misses an opportunity to add to the most thorough midlife crisis in political history. Since having the whip removed after his appearance on I’m a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here! last year, the former health secretary has spent his newfound free time exploring the outer frontiers of cringe.

Not content with discussing his sex life on podcasts, getting into crypto and wearing black polo necks to pop concerts, Hancock has joined TikTok, the Gen Z social media platform of choice.

There, he shares with more than 200,000 followers short videos of himself doing various things: skiing, ironing, discussing the future of liberal conservatism. Yesterday, he posted a video of himself walking down a beach, lip-synching to I’m Just Ken.

“I’m just Ken,” he croons, in a white short-sleeved shirt and cream shorts, potentially after one holiday cocktail more than was advisable. “Where I see love, she sees a friend, what will it take for her to see the man behind the tan and fight for me?” Although his miming does not match up with the music, you can tell the lyrics mean something to him. Possibly they remind him of his relationship with his own sometime Barbie, George Osborne. The clip has been viewed more than two million times, mostly by people peering through their fingers at the horror. And his daughter has shared a clip of the first take, which has had nearly 80,000 views.

More than any star rating or box office receipts, Hancock’s arrival is a sign that Barbie discourse is seeping into the broader culture. The Ken mentality, which presumably he would call “Kentality”, means embracing your beta status, stepping back and celebrating playing second fiddle to the powerful women in your life. Rishi Sunak knows – while he is not declaring himself a Ken, he posted a picture with his wife and daughters off to see Barbie rather than Oppenheimer, as decided by a democratic family vote. Meanwhile, Justin Trudeau’s first public appearance after announcing his split from his wife was a trip to see Barbie with his son, both wearing pink outfits.

While Hancock’s approach is the most extreme, the Ken movement is spreading. In the film, Ken wears a tie-dye hoodie saying “I am Kenough”. As you would guess from a toy company, Mattel has made a version available to the public, priced at £58. It has sold out in every size. Someone put together a video of clips with Kendall Roy, the frustrated would-be heir to a media dynasty in Succession, with the same music. Other social media users have been posting videos of their own “Kens”, which is to say the men in their life being pleased to do normal activities: going for a bike ride, or making a cup of coffee, or fishing. One said that her Ken’s job was “Office”. “He’s very proud of his work,” she wrote. “He came with a suit and Microsoft Excel.” Kens are simple creatures.

Superficially at least, the Ken narrative is different from typical Hollywood hero worship. While James Bond has not been unaffected by progressive politics, he has yet to break into song about his own adequacy. On the face of it, this is a refreshing vision of masculinity compared to the misogynistic ranting of men like Andrew Tate, the controversial influencer who encourages men to treat women as subservient to them. Ken-signalling, in comparison, is summer 2023’s way for men to show they are awake and reading the right-on bits of the internet. They have no problem with women being in charge, or in assuming a supporting role. By Kenwashing himself on holiday, Hancock shows that he is game, feminist and able to poke fun at himself.

Or so he hopes. In truth, Hancock’s contribution looks a lot like another form of virtue signalling, as practised by men forever. While Ken might have bimboish qualities, he is also devilishly handsome, with a six-pack and eyes you could swim in. Styling yourself as a character played by the chiselled Ryan Gosling is not self-deprecation. As he sings in the song, Ken would be a “10 [out of 10] anywhere else”. Hancock has taken this feminist blockbuster and tried to bask in some of its reflected pink glow, co-opting the “Kenergy” to bolster his own reputation. He is, once again, making it all about him. A more feminist response might have been not to post a video of yourself singing about yourself on a beach.

Ken is not an unproblematic role model. For all his gormless posturing at the start, during the course of Barbie, he launches a kind of coup. After being exposed to the patriarchy in the real world, he decides to import it to Barbie Land.

“He is the villain of the film,” says Telegraph film critic Tim Robey. “He essentially forms a masculinity cult. He is brainwashed by the patriarchy, then put back in his place. He’s Barbie’s antagonist and wants female rule abolished.” All the same, by inviting the comparison with Barbie, Hancock has raised some interesting points of discussion. What would the government of Barbie Land look like? Would someone like Hancock ever reach high office? It seems unlikely. And so, in a roundabout way, Hancock lip-synching on TikTok makes a feminist point as forcefully as the film.