shopgirl

I just went to see Shopgirl with my mother. Or, as I can’t help but think of it, “LA Story Part Two”. But at least L.A. story was funny, whereas this was just painful in many places. And although I enjoy being the only person in the Victoria theater to be able to identify every single location in the movie (“hey, that’s the Saks 5th five blocks from my Beverly Hills office!”), I didn’t enjoy the movie as much as I expected to.

Perhaps this is because I expect a certain degree of typecasting from Steve Martin, who I idolize solely for The Jerk. Or maybe it’s just because, if it had been written by a regular hack screenwriter, and had had another token older actor in place (Michael Douglas, for example, would have been better suited to the character) it would have just been another psuedo-clever, yet ploddingly boring movie.

Rating: C-, but a B- if you’re from L.A. Like all Steve Martin’s movies, this one also did include a subtext of love letter to Los Angeles. For me and my ex-Angelino mother, that made it more fun – but it still went on far longer, and with more hubris, than was truly necessary.

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