There are a couple of moments in The Bling Ring, Sofia Coppola’s latest investigation into modern ennui, that are pure genius. The opening scene for instance, which begins as a quiet contemplation of an impending break-in which then explodes into a frenzied showcase of designer goods set to Sleigh Bells’ electro tune “Crown on the Ground” (perfect), is pure cinema. But the rest of the film, like 2010’s Somewhere, is dull and pretentious. Whereas the director had achieved magic with her deadpan comedy Lost in Translation in 2003, her filmmaking output since then has been lacklustre at best and repetitive at worst.
Based on the article “The Suspects Wore Louboutins” by Nancy Jo Sales published in Vanity Fair, the film tries its darndest to explore the psyches of Hollywood’s notorious collective known as The Bling Ring—basically a bunch of misguided and wayward Valley kids who broke into the houses of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Orlando Bloom and Megan Fox (the list goes on) in 2010, and who were later charged in court for felony. There is ringleader Rachel (Katie Chang), a cunning Korean-American girl from a wealthy suburb who desires the designer wardrobes of the Hollywood celebrities; partner-in-crime and best friend Marc (Israel Broussard), an awkward and lonely newbie in school who is secretly in love with Rachel; and sheltered Nicki (Emma Watson, hopeless in her bid to become a serious actress here), who aspires to be like Angelina Jolie and aspires for world peace. These spoilt brats are enough reasons for viewers to roll their eyes (and hurl their Pradas out of the window) with their predictability and hypocrisy, and The Bling Ring is ultimately just that—it’s an ultimately shallow film despite its arthouse ambitions.
Save for the beautiful cinematography by the late Harris Savides and yes, a spot-on soundtrack (a trademark of Coppola’s and longtime music supervisor Brian Reitzell), it’s a shockingly underwhelming film. Admittedly, it may be hard to shed light on a non-story to begin with, but unlike Harmony Korine, whose Spring Breakers was a focused, stylized experience of pure excess and violence, Coppola does nothing with the material here. The Bling Ring simply does not come across as anything—it’s neither a black comedy nor a mood film—but simply another failed exercise for Coppola’s to show off her arty aspirations.
