Confessions of a Shopaholic

Imagine a bleak, stone, Church basement. A circle of chairs, all filled by nervous looking people. An imposing, older lady that has 'battle axe' engraved on her features. And an old man, long white beard, top hat and tails, creaks to his feet:

"Hi, I'm Uncle Sam."

"Hi Sam!" Comes the chorus in return.

"And I am a shopaholic."


There are certain universal things that, as a man, one can recognize- especially on Valentine's Day. When you walk into a theater for a movie like Confessions of a Shopaholic and you realize that pretty much every guy in the theater is there because of his wife and/or girlfriend or boyfriend- resigned to watching a movie that doesn't involve explosions, attractive, martini-sipping spies or scantily clad women. Guys all realize that this is expected of them on Valentine's Day- and the guys that want to actually have some 'fun' on Valentine's Day (at some point during Valentine's Day, that is) usually accept the inevitability of a 'chick flick' with some semblance of good humor.

Confessions of a Shopaholic was just the latest in a series of movies that, if flying solo I wouldn't have bothered with- however, loving my wife the way I do, I become her willing seatmate and sharer of popcorn- and to be honest, not all these movies are bad. (Plus Confessions of a Shopaholic and 27 Dresses, although Ali doesn't know yet, will be revenged upon by Watchmen and the new Star Trek movie in May.)

Yet, I was somewhat surprised by Confessions of a Shopaholic. It wasn't the mindless hour and a half of fluff I was expecting. My initial nausea level rose quickly, as it appeared we were headed towards a pale clone of Sex and the City, but without the apparently excellent income that being a journalist provides Carrie Bradshaw. Shopaholic's titular character Rebecca Bloomwood is also a journalist, but has 12 credit cards and a shopping problem. She also works, initially anyway, at a gardening magazine. She is Carrie Bradshaw without the means to afford Carrie Bradshaw's opulent lifestyle.

There is a twist in all of this though- we immediately begin to wonder about the state of Ms. Bloomwood's mental health as she has long, detailed and intimate conversations with the mannequins in the stores she cannot apparently resist. And we're not talking in a fun, 80s movie type of way. These mannequins are actual, faceless mannequins- they don't look like Sarah Jessica Parker and there's no catchy theme song to go along with them. Throughout the rest of the movie, we're left wondering if Rebecca is actually going to learn a lesson and acknowledge her problem at some point, even as she dodges debt collectors, succumbs to temptation, lies to her best friend and ironically ends up a magazine called 'Successful Savings.'

There are the usual rom-com tropes- attractive, British man (Hugh Dancy), small town parents (Joan Cusack and John Goodman) and the inevitability of the entire movie and it's natural destination of a happy ending for all concerned. Isla Fisher continues to impress with her versatility- and Hugh Dancy is serviceable as the main love interest. But it's the random surprises that really are impressive: Kristen Scott Thomas, John Lithgow, Julie Hagerty, Joan Cusack and John Goodman provide solid performances and make for an interesting cast.

This pink ball of fluff however, does have some added resonance in these days of economic turmoil. Even as Rebecca runs around on her spending spree, it occurs to you that her slavery to the mindless consumerism of modern society is part of the problem we face today. Our nation's economic policy is driven on the backs of writing checks, IOUs and running up debts that we don't think about. Like Rebecca, we buy pretty things and life feels good. It's not until we get the bills (20 years from now) that its all going to come crashing down on us. The United States of America is a nation of Bloomwoods, run by Bloomwoods and there's serious doubts that we, as a nation are going to learn our lessons. Like Rebecca and Confessions of a Shopaholic, we treat our addiction lightly. It's a real problem with destructive consequences relegated to the level of superficial, romantic comedy.

Rebecca ends up with a happy ending- overcoming the consumerism that's consumed her life and realizing that happiness can be found in something more than a shiny new Coach purse or a pair of Prada shoes. What's not at all clear is whether we, as a country are going to learn our lesson anytime soon- or ever. We spend and spend and spend and whenever we're backed into a tight fiscal corner, we just whip our credit cards and spend more. Like Rebecca, it feels good at the time- but eventually and inevitably all the chickens come home to roost.