Shopgirl REVIEW

Although Martin serves a duel role, as both the omniscient narrator (appropriately enough, since he’s also the screenwriter) and lonely rich guy Ray Porter, the story belongs to the title character of Mirabelle, played by Claire Danes. Mirabelle is just another girl who finds herself alone and confused in Los Angeles. Her passion lies in her overtly feminine artwork, but her livelihood is manning the glove counter at Saks Fifth Avenue, pushing gloves she herself could never afford. Following a long yet intimate opening credits tracking shot through the store (which gives new meaning to the term lipstick cam), we end up slowly dollying in on Mirabelle, framed up perfectly behind her oft-ignored glass case, quietly staring off into nowhere, flanked by the gloved outstretched mannequin arms, seemingly reaching to the heavens for something greater. At night, it’s back to her rundown apartment across town, with only her artwork and her cat to keep her company. That is, until she catches the eye of Jeremy, an eccentric penniless slacker played with the weird gusto that only Jason Schwartzman could bring to the role.

Although so much is never uttered, Jeremy is clearly not the type of guy Mirabelle had in mind for herself. His lack of shame in courting her is matched only by his ambition. It isn’t long before that said ambition puts him on a bus right out of the movie. (For fun, try noting all different ways the bus was filmed driving in and around the same country intersection every time we get an exterior shot of it on its trip across America.) In the meantime, Mirabelle is more effectively courted by Martin’s Ray Porter. The relationship isn’t perfect, but for the most part, it looks pretty darn good. Ray loves to pamper her with gifts and affection, and the sex she gives him in return exudes as much class and elegance as it screams “nudity clause” in its overly careful blocking. But, Jeremy isn’t gone for good, and eventually you may’ve guessed that this incidental love triangle must be resolved. It may sound awfully estrogen drenched, but don’t forget we’re in the hands of the mature, art-collecting “Spanish Prisoner”-stealing Steve Martin, and this is one time he’s extremely careful not to let the audience down.

“Shopgirl” may not offer anything entirely new, and Martin may no longer be the beloved wild and crazy guy of yesteryear, but in the capable hands of director Tucker, both the adaptation and its author exude the kind of intentional somber luster that so many more pretentious excursions aim for but bungle terribly. Barrington Pheloung’s entrancing music, Peter Suschitzky’s ace cinematography, and perhaps above all, the perfect casting make “Shopgirl” a well-crafted and honest tale of three people just trying find real connections in the big lonely world. Peppered with just enough awkward humor to make it all easy going down, Martin and company have delivered an absolutely worthwhile film, and by far the best date movie of the year.

- Jim Tudor