Triple Bill Mini Musings: Bling, Deja-vu, and Clanging Metal...

The Bling Ring:
What's it about?
Based on a true story. A gang of self-involved, celebrity-obsessed teenage Californian materialists fulfil their narcissistic urges by stalking the Internet to find out which celebs are out of town and then - after Googling their home addresses - robbing them.
Who would I recognise in it?
Emma Watson, Leslie Mann, Taissa Farmiga, Gavin Rossdale, Paris Hilton.
Great/Good/Alright/Shite?
Sofia Coppola was starting to drift into slightly pompous territory with the sedated and meandering likes of Somewhere (melancholy movie star mopes around The Chateau Marmont for 90 minutes), but thankfully The Bling Ring injects a boost of glitzy, glamorous energy. Comment is rarely made in a direct manner, instead Coppola observes her protagonists without explicit judgement. Their actions are clearly wrong; their lives are founded on parental disinterest, prescription pills, and TMZ. The word "love" is reduced to a cheap affectation drizzled over the nearest object that briefly catches their eye, as they lazily chase dreams of reaching grandiose levels of self-worship. There is a bizarre thrill afforded to the wide-eyed raids on the unlocked (!!!) homes of the (absent) rich and famous, and a simultaneous sense of chic-revulsion. As grotesque as these people's lives are (vapid, soul-less, blissfully ignorant), the performances are universally strong and the pacing is brisk. The film is a little lacking in drama, but ultimately it's satisfyingly damning (from a distance) about the vulgarity of celebrity lifestyle obsession gone mad. Good.

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