The biopic genre has been mounting an alarming resurgence within the past few years. We have been inundated with cinematic “based on a true story” tales across the platforms that range from the dawn of cellphone minute plans, record-breaking sneaker deals, the rise and fall of disco era record companies, sports figures, Cheeto’s flavors and atomic bombs. And that is just so far this year. With so many “truth is stranger than fiction” films careening to garner the attention of audiences, the challenge is growing for filmmakers to find ways to elevate the basic story beats to stand out among the crowd. The Beanie Bubble does not meet this challenge. Although an earnest attempt, the biopic about a Beanie Baby toy tycoon and three women who were instrumental to his company’s success fizzles at the finish line.
The Beanie Bubble written by Kristin Gore (author and daughter of ex-VP Al Gore) who co-directed with her spouse, OK Go front-man Damian Kulash, decided to tell the story of the Beanie Baby phenomena through the three women who supported the larger-than-life mogul Ty Warner (played with charisma and neurosis by Zach Galifianakis). The women, business partner and first wife Robbie (Elizabeth Banks), internet and marketing mastermind Maya (Geraldine Viswanathan), along with independent designer and single mother-cum-love interest Sheila (Sarah Snook) narrate their dealings with Warner as the film time jumps through pivotal moments encapsulated within the 1983 to 1999 timeline. The sporadic time jumps convey that the filmmakers want to keep the energy and moments fresh and exciting, but the choppy storytelling muddles any real connection to the characters, nor does it shed light on Warner’s erratic behavior. It seems his villainy materializes out of thin air in the latter years. The cast carries the film without fail. So much so that you start playing a mental game where you identify what projects they worked on that succeeded in showcasing their talents better. The film falls short as a biopic by not coming through on its beginning affirmation of empowerment for the women who persevered through Warner’s misogynistic tyranny. Curiously, from the story told, they only wanted out when the showcased misogyny directly affected their attempts at career advancement or (in Shelia’s case) familial stability.
Warner is presented as a passive-aggressive monster. We never get any insight on how and when his spiral to corporate madness started or at least a pivotal moment when the film’s subjects realize just how off-kilter Warner is. The time jumping showcases Warner’s polarizing personality but never delivers on any key moments of his effects on the women who catapulted him to success. It’s only when Warner chooses to engineer the glass ceiling to their success does he become the villain, which is a stretch from the forced fun moments of Galifianakis’ Warner doing dance scenes with Sheila’s kids in a bowling alley or watching Warner gleefully spout about stuffed animal colors and concepts. The film works hard to keep the bright colors and crazy times of the ‘80s and ‘90s as background characters, attempting to break the monotony of the jumbled storyline with eye-winking nostalgia. All the pieces seem stuffed together without a single care if they fit or not. That is a disservice, not only to the women who shared their stories but also to the women who may have similar stories to tell.
The Beanie Bubble features solid acting and over charismatic filmmaking, culminating in a mediocre final product. There is nothing to hold on to when the credits roll except the unanswered questions of everyone’s behavior and tolerance level in contrast to, and about, Warner. With so many biopics to choose from this year, and there are some great ones, The Beanie Bubble bursts silently in a crowded room.
Photo courtesy of Apple TV+
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