Give Confessions of a Shopaholic points for being upfront.
The flack that “women’s movies” take for promoting consumerism—marry
rich, fight for your dream wedding and shop your blues away—is here
made front and centre. The adaptation of Sophie Kinsella’s popular
novel is sound because it’s willing to look at material excess as its
subject. It’s a fallacy to think the consumerist impulse is relegated
to entertainment for women: It isn’t within the movie or music
industries’ interests not to endorse capitalism.
But by making it the topic, Confessions of a Shopaholic treats a life of spending with moral recognition. There’s a tinge of
sadness to social climber Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher) remembering
her mother’s philosophy of buying her cheap brown shoes that lasted
forever. Rebecca now shops for the instant high, the sense that a new
wardrobe makes her new.
The main shortcomings of Confessions of a Shopaholic are that
it isn’t funny enough, and once its good intentions are laid bare, it
becomes routine. But Fisher shines—bringing the approachable charm
she displayed in Hot Rod to an old-fashioned Hollywood comedy.
For showtimes, see Movie Times, page 18. Can’t buy me
love at palermo@thecoast.ca.
This article appears in Feb 19-25, 2009.