What kind of teenager walks into Paris Hilton’s house, lounges on her couch, dances on her stripper pole, and finally steals some purses, clothes, jewelry and shoes before heading home? The Bling Ring, apparently. Based on a true events, written as an article for Vanity Fair and finally adapted into a feature film by Sophia Coppola, it’s a story that sounds pretty freaking exciting.
It’s a heist movie, where the targets are any celebrity that comes to mind, has an address online and is known to be away from home. It’s a cat and mouse, where the mouse obliviously saunters in and out, unaware that the cat has eyes. It’s a character profile of the entitled and delusional young person who just takes what she wants in order to live an exciting, expensive, L.A. lifestyle.
And yet, while the story contains all of these, the film actually embraces none. It’s a series of events—choosing outfits, walking through a celebrity’s house, snorting cocaine, driving in a car—that, without the benefit of an exciting thread of plot running through them come across as dull scenes strung together. Boring scenes of girls trying on clothes, elaborate shots of decadent closets, and several sequences of our bling ring protagonists taking selfies in a nightclub.
Many of these scenes come across as barely-scripted, which may be the goal, but ultimately approach the banality of reality television: watching delusional people talk about nothing while looking in a mirror. It seems a shame that this potential caper, this film about the archetypal teenager who feels she is immune to the law, and has nothing to lose, barely scratches the surface of either plot or character. Who would commit these crimes? Well, this group of entitled young people. Why? Well… maybe because they just want to live the life. But really, why? Why are they obsessed with designer clothes? Why would they believe that this is OK? Why would they brag about their crimes to their friends at parties? Why would they post pictures of themselves committing crimes on Facebook?
Sadly this film does almost nothing to answer these fascinating questions about its subjects. Missed was the opportunity to delve into these character’s egos, missed was the chance to tell a tale of daring, debauchery, and dumb luck.
There is so much potential behind this story, that I’m actually pretty surprised that I didn’t enjoy it. Despite potential however, I’m afraid I’m still a sucker for plot. Without a plot, your movie doesn’t have a story, and with no story, nothing drives your characters onward, from one party to the next, one outfit to another.
