Sofia Coppola’s The Bling Ring and Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers would make an excellent double feature. One, based on a true story, follows a group of girls, with one boy in tow, who break into celebrity mansions and cheerfully lift their excess Chanel, Prada, and cash. The other dwells on an fictional nightmare of four friends who go from drunken beach revelry to armed robbery and bloody turf wars during spring break. When arrested, the Bling Ring garners media attention and the kind of flimsy fame that motivated their crimes.
The women in Spring Breakers emerge unscathed after a neon-light bathed shoot-out so ridiculous you’ll cackle with glee instead of disgust. Both films examine how materialism, the pervasiveness of pop culture, and performativity motivate and escalate the respective criminals. With so many television shows, movies, and cultural examinations of the morally vacant anti-hero, it seems fair we should also discuss girls and women behaving badly.
Materialism in both films is a visceral experience. The objects of desire carry powerful meanings for the characters. For the women of The Bling Ring, the jewelry, purses, and furs are sacred artifacts of the celebrity lifestyle. Fashion and celebrity culture imbued them, and us, with preternatural desire and reverence for these things. The girls handle the dresses and shoes with care, like works of art. The stealing is a part of the worship experience: to take these items out into the world, feed off their power, and live the good life.
The women of Spring Breakers have more simple and deadly tastes: guns and money. Before their crime spree, Brit (Ashley Benson) fiddles around with a toy squirt gun, caressing it adoringly. In the presence of the real thing, Brit, Candy, and Cotty (Benson, Vanessa Hudgens, Rachel Korine) use automatic rifles as batons to play “Ring Around the Rosy.” The guns give the women power, sexual power in particular, as exhibited in a scene too wild to spoil with Benson, Hudgens, and James Franco. Money has a similar effect. After robbing a chicken shack, they flash their pilfered gains seductively. The money represents freedom, not only to go to spring break, but to cast off moral constraints on their behavior. The women here are less concerned with what money can buy than with how it makes them feel.
Both films explore the deep and symbiotic relationships young women have with pop culture. In The Bling Ring, the girls consider themselves on a first name basis with their marks. Why shouldn’t they with almost unlimited access through celebrity gossip sites, magazines, and tweets. Taking it all in, they want in. Breaking into celebrity homes is more about participating in the lives of the people who’ve shared everything else with them, crossing that final line between the famous and everyone else. In Spring Breakers, the young women find inspiration in darker elements of pop culture: our collective fascination with violence. To fund their vacation, the girls decide to rob a chicken restaurant with fake guns and hammers. They tell themselves “Pretend it’s a video game” which, like many lines in Breakers gets repeated like a rallying cry fueling their destruction. Video games, movies, and TV furnished these young women with the steps and passion to commit these crimes.
At some point, the young women in both films take their pop culture obsessions to a higher level, making themselves the stars of their fantasies of choice. Taking their cues from reality TV stars with no discernible talent, the girls in The Bling Ring kick their narcissism into high gear. This especially applies to Nicki, played wonderfully by Emma Watson, who uses her infamy to launch her own vapid celebrity career. Always ready for the press, Nicki refers to her legal prosecution as a “learning lesson” for her future of running charities or a country.
Bling Ring leader Rebecca, played by Katie Chung (a Chicago native and amazing new talent) meets her arrest with complete calm. Using the language of every legal show and film ever made, Rebecca guilelessly proposes a deal to exchange all the stolen merchandise for her freedom. Self-deception, image control, and constant promotion of the brand come second nature to these young women because those are the core talents of their admired reality TV celebrities. They know the game and play it like stars.
The women in ‘Spring Breakers’ up the ante as well. After getting bailed out by a colorful drug dealer and amateur rapper, Alien (James Franco), the girls make themselves at home with his massive collection of firearms. In a scene that would be shocking if it wasn’t set to Brittany Spears’ ‘Everytime,” the girls and Alien return to the party hotels in pink ski masks and assault rifles to rob everyone. It’s not about the money though, the girls thrive from dominating others. You can glimpse their darker impulses before Alien appears when they relate their chicken shack robbery tale, aggressively threatening their friend to get down on the ground and pointing a gun-shaped finger at her with a convincing intent to kill. These women quickly go from consumers of pop culture violence to expert purveyors of it.
Materialism and pop culture looms large in both The Bling Ring and Spring Breakers, but the young women in both film aren’t merely empty disciples to fashion or violence. Each film depicts the importance of the desired items in the character’s psychology and traces how the women move from admirers to experts, taking the items and creating their own world of beauty or horror.
I’ve often said that if Martin Scorsese ever dropped by my desk and asked me to follow him, I would in an instant and never look back. I love movies, admire the people that create them, and long to be apart of the magic. That is probably why I completely fell for Simon Curtis’ “My Week With Marilyn” starring Michelle Williams as the iconic bombshell. The film is based on the memoirs of Colin Clark, a young Oxford grad who spurns the professional wishes of his family to, as he put it, “join the circus” of the British film industry. He stages a daily vigil at the offices of Sir Laurence Olivier to get a job on his next film, then titled “The Sleeping Prince,” later re-named “The Prince and the Showgirl.” Finally the last stumbling block to production comes through and Colin joins the production department of the new film starring Sir Olivier and the world’s biggest star: Marilyn Monroe.
The film’s early scenes pip along at a brisk, fun pace. Yet when we get our first glimpse of Michelle Williams as Monroe, time in the film and even in the theater, seems to stand still. She is absolutely breathtaking in the role, playing the part at several different levels seamlessly. Williams plays the screen siren who enchanted us, the woman who drove directors mad with her quirks, insecurities, and inability to memorize lines, the woman who broke hearts without even trying, and the woman who just wanted to be loved and respected as an actress.
The film plays on all our images of Marilyn Monroe, often with characters commenting on her brilliance, allure, and incorrigibility toward authority. During one of the many takes of a simple scene in “The Prince and the Showgirl”, Monroe suddenly clicks in and nails the scene. One character cooes to Sir Olivier, “When Marilyn gets it right you don’t want to look at anyone else.” Indeed and the same can be said of Williams’ performance across the board. When she’s on screen, she’s the only person you ever want to watch. It’s not just about the beauty, while Williams gets all the physical details right. She’s not doing an impersonation.
Williams’ performance seems to call down Monroe’s spirit and lets it shine through the screen. In the film, during an excursion to Windsor Castle, Marilyn and Colin descend the stairs and meet a gaggle of paid staff waiting eagerly to see her. With a sly grin, Marilyn playfully whispers in Colin’s ear, “Shall I be her.” She then plays the pin up; posing for her fans, winking, and blowing play kisses at the crowd. Williams owns that Marilyn Monroe charm, intelligence, sweetness and vulnerability throughout the movie; giving each scene it’s own new Monroe discovery. Her performance moved me greatly and I do expect her to be near the top of my Oscar picks come February.
Aside from Williams, there is a lot to enjoy about My Week With Marilyn. With an all star cast including Dame Judi Dench, Kenneth Branagh, Dominic Cooper, Julia Ormond, Toby Jones, Derek Jacobi, and Emma Watson. Branagh is blissfully hilarious and touching as Sir Lawrence Olivier. His exasperation with Marilyn is mixed with an awe that I found lovely. He says toward the end of the film with a touch of wonder, “Directing a movie must be one of the best jobs ever invented. Marilyn has cured me of ever wanting to do it again.”
Dominic Cooper is once again his wonderful self as the suave, yet brisk agent Milton Greene. Eddie Redmayne was lovely as Colin Clark. He stands in for all of us who long to be a part of the magic of filmmaking. His longing for Marilyn is partly from the character and partly a cipher for us, the viewing public who were utterly fascinated by her. My Week With Marilyn is a magical film dedicated to everyone who’s ever fell in love with star on the screen and reminds us the brightest star we ever had (or ever will have) was Marilyn Monroe.