Our Annual Report shines a spotlight on two very different, very impactful for performances by naming Margot Robbie and Cillian Murphy our 2023 Film Performers of the Year for their respective work in Barbie and Oppenheimer. For more of the best in this year’s music, film, and TV — including our lists of the 25 Best Films — check our full Annual Report here.
When people initially realized that the release dates of 2023’s Barbie and Oppenheimer aligned, it became instant meme fodder. Leaning hard into the concept of gender as a binary, the weekend of July 21st was defined by two colors — hot pink and grey — with an entire cultural phenomenon emerging around the unconventional double feature. It was a pop culture event, one that ultimately went far deeper than the memes.
The Barbenheimer moment, at the time, was a celebration of the contrasts between the two films. However, it’s what both movies have in common that leads to Consequence selecting Margot Robbie and Cillian Murphy as the two best film performers of the year. The expectations around both projects were quite different, as were the requirements and research required. Yet in considering their work, what both performances showcase is a theme almost too powerfully relevant to today: the quest for purpose in a world we struggle to grasp.
Both characters begin in a place of surety: As a resident of Barbie Land, Barbie (Robbie) has always known a perfect, flaw-free life, and has never had a reason to doubt any aspect of her existence. So when she’s first struck by thoughts of death, it has a seismic impact on her world, disrupting her usual routine and eventually forcing her to visit our reality for answers as to what’s happening to her.
J. Robert Oppenheimer (Murphy) is also looking for answers; however, while Oppie (as his limited supply of friends call him) struggles to unlock the scientific discoveries that will eventually lead to the atom bomb, he’s doing so as a scientist, a man who’s confident that thanks to the might of his magnificent brain, the secrets of the natural universe will eventually unfold for him.
Both Robbie and Murphy are remarkable at the level of commitment necessary to sell their characters’ belief that the universe can be understood. For Robbie, this means an ever-present smile, an unshakable cheer, a slightly flat affect that captures her calm acceptance of her circumstances. In the opening sequence, there’s a rigidity to her posture as she cruises through the neighborhood in her pink convertible; there’s nothing bland about her cheer, but it is steady and certain.
There’s a touch of that in Murphy’s own steady gaze as well, though not immediately. Christopher Nolan’s script bounces around the timeline a bit, but our first intimate awareness of the scientist comes from his early days struggling as a student at Cambridge; he’s wild-eyed, scrambling to find his way in the laboratory and failing.
Oppenheimer escapes the self-doubt that plagues him as a student by embracing his natural talents as a theorist, and finding a space for himself in that area of study. And Murphy needs no words to explain that change: A montage that blends Oppenheimer shattering glasses with his increased comprehension of the universe proves triumphant just because of the way Murphy tosses the glassware into the air. He throws them knowing what will happen when they fall to earth, a certainty that gets transmuted into his entire being as he fully commits to the study of quantum mechanics. When the action shifts to New Mexico, even Murphy’s pose captures his new confidence — when he looks out over the countryside, seeing all the future possibilities that lie for him in that land, his shoulders are lined up straight, his stance assured.
Once Oppenheimer sorts out the kind of work he wants to do, and establishes himself as one of the best men alive at it, the ground beneath his feet feels sure and steady — especially when he’s able to combine his passion for his work with the land he loves. In scene after scene, as Oppie faces down those who might challenge his ideas or his approach, Murphy makes it clear that the scientist is aware of just how complicated a mission he’s on: His life is built on a foundation of questions he wants to ask about the unknowable universe. What he never seems to doubt, thanks to every deliberate line reading, every arrogant tilt of the head, is that he has the skillset necessary to explore those ideas; he’s supremely confident that given enough time and resources, he could crack open the literal building blocks of humanity.
In both cases, playing that level of surety is essential to what comes next: devastating doubt. In Barbie, Barbie’s first thoughts of death lead to the crumbling of her entire existence — her flat feet make wearing Barbie-standard heels painful, and her flawless limbs are threatened by (gasp!) cellulite, all captured by Robbie’s razor-sharp physicality.
And when Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) explains the situation, Robbie doesn’t overplay her character’s fear, maintaining just enough lightness to assure the audience that the film isn’t about to descend into full-tilt horror. Instead, it’s so grounded as to be relatable — even if relating to Barbie might have felt impossible at one point, for so much of the audience.
On a surface level, Barbie and Oppenheimer diverge dramatically as they progress, with Barbie’s desire to return to perfection also leading to her once-loyal Ken (Ryan Gosling) discovering the patriarchy and bringing that disease back to their once-idyllic home. Even when Barbie’s falling apart at her darkest moments, Robbie’s devotion to the character never wavers; when she collapses to the ground, it’s the stiff-limbed descent of a broken doll.
