Movie review: Confessions of a Shopaholic

by John P. Meyer

Ho, boy. Confessions of a Shopaholic. I really should have recruited a woman to watch (and review) this one. Or maybe Alex (RIMSHOT!), who evinced such a profound appreciation for Sex and the City.

All I'm sayin' is, I can't rightly relate to a story about a person who lives and breathes fashion the way a God-fearing, Texas-bred, red-blooded American male savors a big steak-and-potato chuckwagon dinner. (Pass the ketchup.)

Regardless, if falls to me to cowboy up to the plate and hold forth on the intrinsic merits of this New York-set, couture-savvy production whose chief virtue might be its efficacy at extolling the dangers of flagrant spending to those whose credit cards are not quite charged to the max.

Petite-and-sexy Isla Fisher (last seen in Definitely, Maybe) plays an urban gal named Rebecca Bloomwood who has grown up enthralled by the goddess-like power conferred on her mom (Joan Cusack) by a magical plastic charge card, which can facilitate the purchase of anything from the plethora of retail fashion outlets native to the island of Manhattan.

Rebecca blossoms into a young woman both superficial and suggestible, who fantasizes that the mannequins in window displays are beckoning to her with their high-dollar shoe, skirt and silk scarf offerings. (Kudos to the sfx crew who succeeded in making the dummies look and act so lifelike.) Over the course of her extended purchasing frenzy, Rebecca has racked up a credit card debt in excess of $9,000, in the process attracting the debt-collecting attention of an odious yet tenacious functionary named Derek Smeath (Robert Stanton).

While Smeath stakes out Rebecca's apartment (shared with best friend Suze, played by the vivacious and whimsical Krysten Ritter), Rebecca attempts to improve her career situation by stepping up from an editorial job at a gardening periodical to the plush editorial offices of a publishing conglomerate headed up by fashion legend Alette Naylor (Kristin Scott Thomas, doing a convincing turn as an effete French expatriate).

While Rebecca's dreams of landing an opening on the staff of Alette are dashed by the ultra-chic, ultra-egotistical Alicia Billington (Leslie Bibb, looking like a mannequin come to life - only more so), she does manage to bluff her way into employment at a sister publication that specializes in finance. (Ironic, no?)

Naturally, through the magic of Hollywood make-believe, Rebecca finds a way to turn her predilection for Prada into the basis for a series of remarkably insightful articles which turn the magazine's readership - and its publishers - into rabid fans.

Oh, and here's a surprise: her new boss (Hugh Dancy, as Luke Brandon) is a handsome, charming, misunderstood and (briefly) unattached single gentleman who (surprise again) takes a real shine to his new columnist. One further surprise: he's rich. Yes, things are looking mighty rosy for our heroine, until a) she messes up her friendship with roommate Suze by losing possession of the über-gauche bridesmaid dress she is supposed to wear to her wedding, and b) Derek Smeath catches up to her at the most inopportune of times, exposing her for the bad credit risk she actually is.

To say that the plot points are telegraphed doesn't do their predicability full justice: the chap sitting next to me at the preview screening was actually able to tell me what would happen before the movie began - and he ended up being right on all counts. (Seated next to him was Dallas fashion designer and empresario Oscar Fierro, who probably saw through the whole thing even sooner - before entering the theater, even.)

Aside from the glamorous getups and sparkling accessories - and a likeable lead performance by the lovely Ms. Fisher - the other tics in the plus column for this P.J. Hogan-directed outing include a bevy of colorful and amusing supporting players, such as John Goodman in the role of Rebecca's dad; John Lithgow as publishing magnate Edgar West; and in a deft stroke of casting, Wendie Malick (Nina Van Horn of Just Shoot Me fame) as the leader of a local Shopaholics Anonymous chapter.

Jonesing for some high fashion glitz and glamour? This might make for an enjoyable evening's diversion. Otherwise: horseman, pass by.