Film Review: Confessions of a Shopaholic
A young Manhattan journalist is up to her eyeballs in debt.
It’s hard to say whether Confessions of a Shopaholic is the ideal film for our times, or the complete opposite. Do people who have lost their jobs and homes really want the “escapism” of a flick about a girl who’s up to her eyeballs in debt over Gucci bags and Louboutin shoes? On the other hand, they might feel better about their own credit card debt after leaving the theatre.
Confessions of a Shopaholic: The Books, the Film and the Plot
Based on the first two books in the series by Sophie Kinsella, Shopaholic moves the action to the second book’s locale (Manhattan, rather than London – presumably because Carrie Bradshaw is currently a hotter commodity than Bridget Jones), and makes the odd choice of changing the heroine, Rebecca Bloomwood, from British to American, but casting an Australian-raised Scot (Isla Fisher) to play her.
Rebecca is an aspiring fashion journalist who, out of desperation, takes a job at a money magazine owned by the same company as the periodical that holds her dream job: fashion journalist at Alette magazine. Ironically, given her debt problems, she becomes a famous financial columnist, “The Girl in the Green Scarf.” Her editor and love interest, Luke Brandon (Hugh Dancy) remains British to add to this absurd fantasy.
Shopaholic is More a Movie-length ad than a Film
Like Sex and the City, Confessions of a Shopaholic is more a two-hour commercial for its featured name brands than a genuine film. The storyline is predictable, and the one original device – store mannequins that talk and move, tempting Rebecca to buy their wares – isn’t original or funny enough to make up for the stale plot.
But the film does feature one moment of genuine self-awareness for Rebecca. She is forced by her best friend Suze (Krysten Ritter) to attend Shopaholics Anonymous, an exercise that leads to nothing more significant than the penultimate sequence of the film. But at her lowest point, Luke asks Rebecca how she’s managed to get herself into this mess, and the answer is revealing: “I shop because when I do, the world gets better. And then it isn’t anymore. And I have to do it again.” This is true addict talk, and it’s unfortunate that the sweet confectionary of romantic comedy doesn’t allow for more insights like this. The rest of the film consists of faux-catwalk montages set to pounding pop music, and a lot of falling down on the part of its star.
Fisher, best known either as Vince Vaughn’s crazy girlfriend in Wedding Crashers or as the wife of Sacha Baron Cohen, is an adorable presence and a fairly gifted physical comedian, in the wacky, red-headed, Lucille Ball tradition. But her charms and the stellar supporting cast (Wendie Malick, John Goodman, Kristin Scott Thomas and the fabulous Joan Cusack, among others) are wasted on this silly piece of fluff. Fisher deserves to be a star, but this isn’t the flick that’s going to make her one.
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