Confessions of a Shopaholic: Charmingly Ridiculous

You know what you’re getting into when you buy a ticket for a movie called Confessions of a Shopaholic. Yes, it’s ironic that the movie was released the same day that Congress passed a $787 billion economic recovery bill to save us all from financial ruin. But this movie bears so little connection to any sort of reality that I couldn’t get worked up about it. Confessions of a Shopaholic is absurd, but in the least offensive way possible. It’s hard not to be fond of a movie in which a major plot point hinges on a hot-pink bridesmaid dress with an enormous neon blue-and-purple tulle petticoat.

Far less serious than, say, Sex and the City, or even Shopaholic’s obvious inspiration, Bridget Jones’ Diary, the movie is based on a series of British novels that came out at the very beginning of the 90s chick-lit craze, when it was still uncommon for a book not written by Bret Easton Ellis to feature detailed descriptions of every piece of clothing every character was wearing, along with a list of all the designers and retail outlets involved. When I first read The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic, I put it down after the first chapter and turned to ask the friend who’d recommended it, “Did I really just read three straight pages about how desperately this Becky girl wants to buy a green Denny & George scarf?” Because, yes, I had.

And that scarf is also a major plot point in the movie. It triggers the meeting between our heroine, Becky Bloomwood, and her partner in romantic comedy, Mark Darcy Luke Brandon, played by Hugh Dancy in a pale imitation of Hugh Grant.  (The books are set in London, but Luke is the only character who managed to retain his Britishness in the film adaptation.)

The movie is a fairy tale of sorts, an Enchanted with a different spunky redheaded heroine with the same ridiculous outlook on life. Becky is a compulsive shopper, the kind who finds herself with a surprise $900 credit card bill that represents only a fraction of her $16,000 debt. The Becky of the novels, being British and, you know, female, was regarded by most of the other characters as adorably quirky, into those silly things women like to do, like getting themselves into massive debt despite having really cheap rent and no other apparent expenses besides stuff. The movie improves on this, since it does, at least, acknowledge that Becky’s shopping is evidence of some sort of psychological problem, although… aside from her money issues, the girl seems pretty darn well-adjusted.

Isla Fisher, who was the best thing about Wedding Crashers (and let’s not get me started on the misogynist, homophobic piece of crap that was Wedding Crashers ? whoops, too late), is also the best thing about Shopaholic. There’s also a fun cast of supporting characters, including Becky’s roommate, Suze, who is a fellow shopaholic but is lucky enough to be rich, so it doesn’t matter, and Suze’s boyfriend, Tarquin. In the book, Tarquin is also Suze’s cousin (look, it’s the U.K., they do things differently there), but the screenwriters wisely decided not to mention that. There’s also Becky’s rival Alicia Bitch Longlegs; the fellow members of Becky’s shopaholics support group, which includes a giant ex-NBA player named DeFreak who has a penchant for Cartier watches, and that chick from Just Shoot Me having way too much fun as a sadistic shopping addiction counselor. Plus, there’s John Goodman, who must’ve needed the work since Aaron Sorkin doesn’t have a show on the air, as Becky’s dad; Joan Cusack, who apparently doesn’t need the work and therefore must simply enjoy the money (good for her), as Becky’s mom; and Kristin Scott Thomas, who I guess didn’t want to be accused of ripping off Meryl Streep and so gives her own version of Anna Wintour a French accent and an indulgent smile. And then there’s a fantastic cameo by Ed Helms.  I think all comedy films should be required to work in Ed Helms cameos from now on.

Much is also made of Mark’s famous socialite mother Eleanor Sherman, who was a prominent character in the books, although we never actually see on screen (so either she got cut and will appear on the DVD deleted scenes, or they’re planning to save her for the sequel and hire Judi Dench, which I admit would be enough to get me to buy another ticket).

Unlike the last two movies I saw that desperately targeted the bachelorette party market, Shopaholic maintains an appropriate balance of farce and believability. There are people in the world like Becky Bloomwood, sure, but if the movie is to be believed, they don’t take themselves too seriously. The movie includes some forced references to the current crisis that were obviously added in reshoots, and maybe it is kind of insensitive to release a movie with this storyline given the current state of our economy, but… honestly, who cares? It isn’t exactly masquerading as high-brow social commentary. I mean, come, on, it’s called Confessions of a Shopaholic.

And, as it happens, the theater where I saw the movie was next door to an Ann Taylor Loft. And, even though it’s not Denny & George, I’m sure Becky would’ve been proud to know she inspired my recession-appropriate post-movie purchase of a new bright yellow long sleeved tee (on sale! Two for $30!).

Check out Inisia’s review here!