Why I almost liked THE BLING RING

The Bling Ring manifesto, Not hot, hot, hot, not hot, hot.The Bling Ring is a side ways glance of a shopping tour through famous Hollywood people’s homes for the curious and bored. A small crew of idle teens, wander from listless parties to bars, snapping selfies while ignoring school and parental confusion. To a final effect of nothing which is the direct result of nothing. Other than the redistribution of shopping skills, location, and a terrible display of teenagers unable to mix and match  their clothes.

Emma Watson's grown up hotness is almost submerged in the BLING RINGThe Bling Ring is amazing in it’s ability to be utterly not amazing in any relevant way. Other than shamelessly depicting how amazingly our culture has descended into an almost uninterpretable sleepwalking reality program with autism as the main guest.

The cast is incredibly mediocre. Lending no particular traits to any of the characters other than a completely blasé attitude to anything that doesn’t have a decent brand label on it. The fixation on the depravity and poignant irrelevance of Hollywood’s human oddities and commodities smeared across television and the internet as strangely beautiful freaks, idolized for their ability to survive self inflicted damage either mental, physical or psychic.

Hollywood fame is the cage and the wannabe’s want behind the gilded bars. And it’s very easy because the rich and pointless have forgotten to be bothered to lock their doors, even in La LA land.

But more importantly why bother? Firstly, there are far too many doors to think about about in these lavish homes and secondly who cares! These tripping pop icons have so much damn stuff from bags, watches, furs, bling and cha-ching. It’s impossible to remember where all the debris is, let alone care. If anything were to go missing it would merely be an excuse to get another newer one. Or easier yet, some rag corp would merely drop it off at their door praying that the diva of the nanosecond would wear it and pop their sales figures up.

It’s an easy drive to your nearest celebrities home’s open side door and into their walk in closets for your own personal tour of their privates. Be it clothes, gear, nasty photos or sheets.

I could only tell the cast apart by either hair color or who squints the most unapologetically. Except as Emma began to get more closeup’s her star quality though downplayed, pierced the veil of the unreal real and made it all rather pretentiously funny.

So little happens in The Bling Ring and it’s mundane pace is anorexia, bereft of meaning, strife or soul. It is perhaps the perfect reflection of real life, or at least the lives of these mentally ingrown incestuous malcontents struggling to make sense of their inane lives in a world of endless empty delusion.

Another Bling Ring Selfish selfie momentThe real horror in The Bling Ring is that it’s a real story. These are real humans impersonating people’s lives. I don’t mean the actors, I am referring to the actually people depicted by actors living vicariously, enacting and seeking thrills through the lives of their cultures idols.

bling ring kiss - The Bling Ring (2013)

A selfie with a duck face and a stylish hat or scarf is the meaning of life in this world. Flash your watch, your phone, your dress and your car. Stroke your hair, fluff your breasts and gaze into the abyss of the internet.

These are the geniuses that rob banks later in life and post it on their FB page.

High school friends decide to invade Paris Hiltons house while she is off on a shopping spree or a tryst. I think invasion is a harsh word to describe the act because there is entry but never any breaking. This isn’t a B&E, it’s more like a stroll and borrow. Like girlfriends lend each other their clothes and other things from their closet. Does anyone ever really expect anything back? You just have to go to their closet and get something of theirs.

I think that is where the problem eventually arose, there were some serious BFF rules broken until the police finally had to get involved, years later.

Chubby gay pouting boy with low self esteem wants to make friends at school and he likes pink shoes, so when the semi popular girl at school wants to show him the ropes at lounging in the rich and famous local homes, he agrees. Soon the crowd grows and Paris Hilton’s home becomes the anti boredom fun night for the high schoolers.

Once they discover that locking doors is a Faux Pas for the debutant celebrities. They branch out to other stars in the constellation, becoming more brazen. With little knowledge of surveillance cameras despite being able to walk backwards on occasion and where a hoodie. There are far too many holes in logic to deliberate over, but logic isn’t the strong point in this story.

It’s about our culture, the commodity of fame and what those without that currency will do to achieve it.

I'm just happy that I always leave my keys under the mat so that I could be relevant once more in movies.Lots of clothes change closets and some of it over flows onto yards sales or just gets lost. Except for the Paris Hilton’s large sized pink shoes. I know she must have been thrilled to have gotten this film  made almost as a tribute to her and her fantastic walk in closets. But to have your foot size ridiculed, that must have cost the producers extra.

Though it’s hard to believe that Paris would have issue with anything after her sex tape was released and boosted her fame game points. Giving her credits to star in a few horror romps that cost her serious glam points. She should have stayed silent.

Of course eventually someone notices a few clothes were missing or maybe it was the extra living room camera catching the preening teens dancing through their living rooms. Popular personalities want their stuff back, it cost them their soul, it was hard earned so when it was eventually noticed, they called the cops.

Yes teen court can be humiliating, thank god the cameras are rolling. The book deals, the interviews and the celebrity hoisted upon who ever was cute enough to hold the cameraman’s lens long enough to make a spectacle of themselves.

I preferred the psychologically caustic film 15 MINUTES with Robert Deniro as a brilliant depiction of celebrity in our culture. Or the wild and near shocking Spring Breakers. They both say what Bling is trying to capture but far better and far more entertaining.

But if teens and brand name clothes are your current currency, then The Bling Ring will be a yawning diversion with nods to our declining youth’s mental state with celebrity couture leading the way to madness aided by parents that idolize Angelica Jolie.

I would have enjoyed a better soundtrack and a few actual celebrities thrown in to liven up events. How true The Bling Ring is, I don’t know, how true should it be? I don’t want to know.

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