VanBuren: Leave ‘Shopaholic’ alone, new shoes aren’t bad

USA Today’s Claudia Puig pegged a recent movie as ‘the most ill-timed and appallingly insulting… USA Today’s Claudia Puig pegged a recent movie as ‘the most ill-timed and appallingly insulting movie in recent memory.’ Could it be the torture and vigilantism-advocating ‘Taken?’ Or perhaps ‘Pink Panther 2,’ for … existing? The offender is actually ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic,’ a bubbly cocktail that is, in reality, about as offensive as a marshmallow. Yet, USA Today’s movie critic isn’t the only one who has a bone to pick with this harmlessly by-the-numbers romantic comedy ‘mdash; The San Francisco Chronicle calls the timing of the movie ‘downright perverse.’ The New Republic says it ‘teeters between escapism and insult.’ This seems unfair. Like many other un-single men, I spent Valentine’s night in a showing of ‘Confessions,’ but I didn’t leave the theater more offended than after any number of equally forgettable slices of tripe. If you haven’t seen the movie and worry that you’re in the tiny percentile that could actually be surprised by its ending, beware ‘mdash; the defense is presenting evidence that contains spoilers. The charge by the prosecution is that ‘Confessions’ glorifies consumerist addictions, endorsing the acquisition of couture by any means necessary, recession be damned. I disagree. For all its pop, sparkle and glam, the movie is a step in the right direction for aspiring fashionistas. Unlike its predecessors, like ‘Sex and the City,’ it has some semblance of a conscience. ‘Sex’ is a world of couture without consequence, where women like Carrie Bradshaw can afford to live in fabulous rent-controlled Upper East Side brownstones, snatching up Manolos as if they don’t cost $700 a pair. Like Bradshaw, the heroine of ‘Confessions,’ Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher), is a working journalist with an insatiable, near-erotic passion for fashion ‘mdash; the only difference is that if Bradshaw existed in the real world, she too would be long buried under a mountain of consumer debt for her indulgences. Why, then, does ‘Sex’ get a free pass? According to RottenTomatoes.com, it received almost exactly as many positive reviews as negative, easily trumping the widely skewered ‘Confessions.’ It seems that Bloomwood really can’t catch a break, whether receiving damning reviews, evading debt collectors or trying to impress her mega-hottie new boss. Precedent suggests that critics should spare ‘Confessions’ the death sentence on the grounds of being simple-minded chick-lit turned chick-flick. The verdict? ‘Confessions’ is too realistic. True, the movie’s plot is actually about as realistic as an episode of ‘The Flintstones,’ but the devil is in the details ‘mdash; and probably in Prada. Bloomwood is heavy in debt. She’s afraid to answer the phone because she’s out of excuses for the bill collectors. Critics purport that they are offended at her dire circumstances being played for laughs, but the true reason critics have made this movie a scapegoat is the seriousness of Bloomwood’s dilemma ‘mdash; a seriousness from which the movie surprisingly doesn’t shy away. Were the movie truly offensive, it would suggest that Bloomwood could wipe away her debt using the same fairy-tale magic that wins her way into the dreamy boss’s heart. It would make the solution to that conflict as painless as every other problem she so effortlessly licks with nothing but spunk and charm. At the end of the movie, the only recourse she has to settle her debts is to sell all her belongings. She loses all her worldly possessions to dig herself out of the mess she created with consumer greed. Not nearly as cute as romancing her boss with a tango or other shenanigans ‘mdash; it’s tragically true to life, a shocking reminder in Bloomwood’s land of make-believe that some problems have only painful solutions. Thus, I rest my case. Familiar rom-com tropes and silly plot notwithstanding, ‘Confessions’ isn’t the worst-reviewed movie of the weekend because it makes light of a national financial crisis ‘mdash; it’s because its ending is eerily prescient of the difficult decisions ahead for all of us. It might not be offensive, but it sure isn’t much fun, either.