the bling ring
I went to the pictures, the cinema that is, t’other day to see Sofia Coppola’s new flick, The Bling Ring. Apparently, it’s the true-ish story of a teenage gang of celebrity and materially-obsessed Los Angeles kids who repeatedly broke into the homes of the rich & famous Hollywood elite. Or rather they didn’t actually need to break-in as the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan don’t usually bother locking their houses and, in the rare event they remember to do so, they’ll of course be kind enough to leave a key under the front door welcome mat for you.
Let me do you a favour and save you some of your hard-earned money into the bargain: don’t bother going to see it. The whole point of the film is to vividly point out the vacuous nature of today’s X-Factor society – ‘stuff’ (which is how they continually refer to the endless procession of Birkin handbags, Chanel perfume, Louboutin shoes and Rolex watches) is taken by those who don’t need it, by those who have no idea they have it. Stuff is worn, or rather displayed, for a week or two then sold off as it’s sooo last season, and nothing’s neither missed nor reported. The only moral compass they’d have taken any notice of would have been one made by Cartier! No judgements are made by either writer, director or protagonists and the film comes across as a more of a quasi-documentary of thinly-veiled ‘fame’ than a work of inventive narrative fiction – anything and everything is allowed provided it’s in the pursuit of material happiness, which makes me think of the quote “money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy you a yacht big enough to pull up right alongside it!”
Oh, and Sofia Coppola as the next big-thing? I don’t think so – I reckon her father’s name was mentioned more times in the credits than hers…alongside three or four other family members. Nepotism anyone?
