Shopgirl

Claire Danes has become a lanky, elegant movie star in the old Hollywood tradition and "Shopgirl" showcases it without a doubt. She was always a good actress but now she's more than that. Her character is a genuine creation that moves in logical if unpredictable patterns. Steve Martin, the most self effacing of the contemporary American comedic geniuses, is becoming quasi french in his story telling style without betraying his utter Americaness. I have a feeling that he'll continue to surprise us and I for one will wait eagerly for his next move. The thinking clown if there ever was one. Jason Schwartzman belongs to the quirky Coppola, Nicolas Cageish school of acting and he is a delight. Odd and sexy in the most irresistible way. The film has an intellectual pace and a sad smile at its center. A real original American comedy for the new millennium.

After some of the lesser films Steve Martin has been in lately, namely Cheaper by the Dozen, Bringing Down the House, and the like, it's a welcome sight to see him doing serious work. Shopgirl, adapted by Martin from his novella, is arguably his most serious work, and easily his most dramatic performance. However, in the world of Oscar prospects especially, the film will likely receive few accolades. Despite strong efforts from the cast, the film crashed between depressing drama and farcical comedy with none of the grace required.

The main issue with the film is Anand Tucker's direction. Only his second feature film, following 1998's Hilary and Jackie, Shopgirl is played far too serious. A heavy camera seems to plod its way through scene after scene. Several moments, mostly those with Jason Schwartzman in them, try to lighten things; but even some fairly good laughs cannot remove the feeling that this isn't a very happy film.

It is perhaps unfair to blame Tucker for the mood entirely. Similar complaints were leveled against Martin's original novella. But how much more endearing, how much more fun, this film would've been under someone like Rob Reiner. It is, after all, a comedy of relationship errors. There is drama here but the heart and soul of the story is in the laughter. The mistake is entirely in playing it as a drama with comedy, not a dramatic comedy.

The other main flaw is the tedious, and essentially needless, voice-over narration. Whether in screenplay format the narration read fine, or if it was added later to clarify the film for mainstream audiences, it detract. The actors are all capable enough to express their emotions without explanation. It is not hard to tell when a young woman goes home to an empty apartment and a cat that she is lonely. As remarked by a man sitting behind me: "A movie loses something when it has to be explained." The problem with the narration here is that Shopgirl doesn't need to be explained, but is.

Not helping the dreary atmosphere is Barrington Pheloung's ridiculously over-dramatic score. Echoing the work of Alexandre Desplat, especially Girl With a Pearl Earring (produced by Tucker), Pheloung seems insistent upon forcing drama into every note. The music plays less as an underscore than as an upstaging diva. Other technical work reaches must loftier heights. Nancy Steiner's endearing costume design, a cross between her work on The Virgin Suicides and a Day/Hudson comedy, gives instant heart to the characters. Danes' Mirabelle benefits the most. Likewise the art direction, by Sue Chan and David Smith, is delightful. Danes' apartment has an apt Vermont-meets-L.A. feel whereas Martin's two homes are cold and hollow, like his character.

The curious thing is that when all the elements come together Shopgirl is an enjoyable experience. As it was playing I really liked it. But when all is said and done there is something missing. Once you stop laughing you realize it is a profoundly unhappy film. Despite the strong and endearing performances the film is simply too sad to win any hearts, but well-meaning enough not to send any away.

Edward Hopper was the great painter of urban loneliness. Shopgirl had two perfectly composed and lit shots that could pass for Hopper paintings -- the one where we first see Mirabelle behind the glove counter at Saks, and the one where she solves the problem of how exactly to cross the intimacy threshold with Ray for the first time. Both involve the display of exquisite merchandise to customers who have excellent taste but don't quite appreciate the full value of what's being offered.

The relationship between Ray and Mirabelle is, of course, a transaction. Ray is what used to be called a sugar daddy. He knows it, and within the limits of that role he is apparently a generous and considerate keeper. We aren't given Ray's back story, but it is not hard to guess that a symbolic logician who made a fortune in computers might have been socially challenged, to put it mildly, as a young man, and suffered a good deal of rejection from women. He can now buy what he couldn't then woo, but experience has taught him never to relinquish control and never to let himself be vulnerable. A few hundred million dollars have cleaned up his exterior nicely and given him power over his surroundings, but the inner nerd is still there.

Mirabelle certainly appreciates the value of what Ray can do for her. Consider the shot in Vermont where she gazes at her dried out, prematurely worn mother and decides she'll meet Ray in New York after all. But Mirabelle refuses to admit to herself that she is only being kept. We are meant to think the better of her for her self deception. The sluttish, annoying and frankly mercenary but cheerfully self aware Lisa is there to draw an unfavorable contrast with Mirabelle. Paradoxically, it is Mirabelle's self-deceived integrity, and her refusal to use the crude manipulations Lisa suggests, that make her a more exquisite ornament for Ray -- gourmet arm candy for a man with the finest taste. Both women are punished for self deception, but Lisa suffers only comic humiliation while Mirabelle sets herself up for real pain.

Jeremy has the makings of a Ray in him, but we are meant to believe that he has -- implausibly -- attained emotional enlightenment, if not the capacity for articulate speech or sustained rational thought. He has earned Mirabelle, we are told, because he has remade himself to be worthy of her. Love may not conquer all in this bittersweet anti-romance, but it still does better than break even.

One of the best of this year that I have seen. Writing was top notch, acting great, and set direction and cinematography outstanding! Many of the shots were jaw droppingly "wow." A really pretty movie to look at and an emotionally torturing movie to watch for someone closer to Martin's age than the rest of the cast.

Sure, Ray is playing out a fantasy that is kind of creepy, but there are women looking for that kind of relationship, just listen to Dr. Laura. And men too, of course. Plus, the voice over sets this up as it basically says she is looking for love to "find her" and Ray does, so this is built into the premise like it or not. Over the course of the movie she matures beyond her fantasy, and I would like to think Ray does as well, although that isn't as clear.

I hope for Steve Martin's sake (and book sales) that the novella on which this desultory movie is based is better than the movie itself.

Claire Danes, who I wanted desperately to like, gives a catatonic performance as a lonely young woman looking for love, or at least human contact, in L.A. A love triangle of sorts develops between her, a wacky spaced-out nice guy (Jason Schwartzman) and an older, very well off divorcée (Steve Martin), who's nearly as catatonic as Danes. Absolutely nothing of significance or originality happens as this story builds toward a conclusion you can predict before the opening credits have even finished rolling. The characters played by Danes and Martin are such drips that you can't muster up one iota of interest in what happens to either of them or their love affair. The film moves at a woeful pace, and everything's set to a funereal, repetitive string score. The only life in the film comes from Schwartzman, who has far too small a role. In fact, why not just make a movie about him next time?

Grade: C-