Dear Sophia Coppola,
Touche. Bravo. Very clever. I left The Bling Ring tonight feeling as if I've been caught complicit in something devious, selfish, illegal, and immoral. I went to this movie knowing its plot (though I thought the group members were older than high school... my b) and it's like I fell right into your plan. I wanted to see it to watch people "like me" get to wear expensive clothes, shoes, bags, scarves; go to expensive clubs and be perceived by their peers as if they're impressive and extra special because of the places they've been and items they now possess. But I also hoped you'd show their demise. I knew I wouldn't like the film if none were caught. On that point, you didn't disappoint. I didn't expect to feel like I was caught too, though. Like I was in need of purging my closet of all things designer because owning them somehow implies I want to be perceived as a celebrity because celebrities are perceived of as being special. Non-famous people aren't. And yet, maybe that's why I own some designer items.
When Marc was asked how he felt about having a fan page about him or getting over 800 friend requests a day, he responds with two statements. First he says how it unnerved him that he was being celebrated after doing something illegal as opposed to doing something charitable, heroic, or good. He then says something about how this new found fame reveals "America has this sick fascination with a Bonnie and Clyde kind of thing." That they're jealous of these teens for getting to touch celebrities' possessions, be in celebrities' houses, drive their cars. It's the material items that make someone special to Americans...
Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan had stuff stolen from their houses because some kids idolized their style and wanted a bit of their stuff to feel more special. The ring leader appears to be a sociopath and Emma Watson's character is desperate for stardom. Watson's character felt no legitimate remorse for their actions. The ring leader cared if the celebrities mentioned her or knew who she was. Watson's character used it to catapult her own celebridom. She even credited the experience as something that needed to happen to teach her a valuable lesson. A lesson she can't seem to fully/at all articulate.
To me, my purchase of a ticket to this move validated that sentiment. I knew I'd get 90 minutes of Prada, Chanel, Birkin, Louboutin, Gucci, etc. I knew I'd see stilettos and leather and diamonds. And that's partially why I wanted to go. And when that previously quoted line by Marc played in the movie, I felt caught. I felt dirty. Like I wanted to get rid of all clothing items, shoes, and accessories over $75.00. Or anything with a designer logo. Or anything not from Old Navy (which granted would still leave me with a large wardrobe). That likely wouldn't matter though. It likely doesn't matter if I purge my possessions; it's missing what I think the point is supposed to be - or one of the many points.
We've stopped realizing humans as humans because value has become determined by material possessions and not one's humanity.
In essence, I think all the girls were so self-possessed and narcissistic that there's very little redeeming about them. I'm guessing Coppola wanted it that way. Marc had a bit of a conscience in the beginning and I think gave the most honest account of what happened after his arrest, but was still (because of where the movie ended) not showing signs of living differently - as if he had changed his mentality about stuff, things, possessions. None of them acted that way. And that's part of where I feel caught. I can watch it, know it's horrible, repulsive even, and leave the theater and not act any differently myself. Because I haven't stolen anything I own. Nor do I have intentions or desires to steal. But I've definitely bought things because I thought people would think a certain way of me when I wore it. Because I wanted people to see me wearing a particular brand. As repugnant and immoral as those high schoolers' action were, some of their motives for wanting those celebrities' things have been my motives for wanting certain things. And that disturbs me more. That makes me want to be different but without someone to be accountable to, I fear my ability to change is limited. I fear I would have a one-time purge of things I don't wear anymore and then go for a while before deciding I didn't have a certain item I "needed" or enough of some type of shirt or what have you and I'd just wind up in the same predicament again. I fear that because it's totally happened before.
It's easy to find accountability partners for diet and exercise and even down time and self-care. It's hard to find people willing to hold each other accountable to the acquisition of material items. And what makes me feel uncomfortable is I'm somewhat happy about that. Damn, Mrs. Coppola, you've made one hell of a movie. I'm really uncomfortable because I feel caught, I feel complicit, and yet I'm not sure I want to completely change, especially if I'm the only one trying to change.
