It's smart and droll.
The sense of detachment that is a signature of Sofia Coppola's work -- the coolly distant, stylishly dreamlike way she regards her characters -- works to her detriment in The Bling Ring.
This is a funny, sarky, bang-on portrayal of the freakiness of celeb obsession. The story would sound outrageous - if it wasn't true.
Emma Watson is comedic gold.
All the characters are shallow and one-dimensional and, while one can argue that this is the point, it doesn't make for 90 minutes of engaging cinema.
Daring to face these often noxious, seemingly empty phenomena on aesthetic terms, and taking on a degree of their flatness and simplicity, Coppola renders them surprisingly substantial.
Coppola neither makes a case for her characters nor places them inside of some kind of moral or critical framework; they simply pass through the frame, listing off name brands and staring at their phones.
s Coppola offering a critique (a stated hope) or somehow being complicit? These questions seem to coil in on themselves, making The Bling Ring that weird yet common hybrid of tsk-tsking and celebration.
It starts out as an expert docu-comedy about coddled teens who burgle celebrity homes and ends up an irritating, shallow mood piece about irritating, shallow people.